


Malicious Intentions

by Apathetic Lambchoppi (Apathetic_Lambchoppi)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Assassin!Harry, Badass!Harry, Dark!Harry, F/M, Gen, Harry has a younger brother who is that WBWL cliche, Harry never went to Hogwarts cliche, Intelligent!Harry, Kind of main character death, M/M, NO ONE IS SAFE GoT SHIT OVA HERE, No Bashing on anyone if I can help it, Not your usual Harry Potter/ Voldemort relationship, Sadistic thoughts while those deaths happen, Should I add something else?, Tags subject to change as I update, This is posted on FF btw, WBWL cliche, You Have Been Warned, gory death, lots of death, powerful!Harry, psychotic!Harry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-12
Updated: 2015-07-17
Packaged: 2018-04-04 01:56:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 12
Words: 36,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4121866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Apathetic_Lambchoppi/pseuds/Apathetic%20Lambchoppi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry Potter, older brother to the supposed BWL, disappeared at the tender age of four. After major abuse at the hands of his new family, Harry escaped them and grew up to be a powerful, psychopathic assassin. With no conscience, an angelic face (not just for no reason, just so you know) and intellect rivaling the two Lord's he's decided to play with, which side will he join? Or will he be on no one's side but his own? Watch as Harry juggles with his own terrifying past, irritating do-gooders, and a hunger for power that may just overshadow Voldemort's own. Will he succeed, or will our Harry face the same fate he's gifted so many others?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This is a story I've had on fanfiction.net for awhile and it's under the same name as on here--Apathetic Lambchoppi. I will slowly but surely update all my chapters on here as well, but not super fast. I have 11, counting this one, so far uploaded, so I suppose if you really like it you can go there and read. Hope you like and please tell me your thoughts. :)

  _I may look happy, but honestly dear, the only way I will really smile is if you cut me ear to ear._

_\- bring me the horizon_

* * *

In the cold, dark streets of London sat the actual Boy-Who-Lived. Of course, no one actually knew this, for his brother was supposedly the Chosen One.

At the moment, he was kneeling on the roof of one of the various clubs in the city, waiting for his prey to show itself.

The bright white moon shone on his sharp features, but for some reason he was still able to remain out of sight. Finally, the mudblood exited the building, his drunkenness obvious from his struggle to walk.

Two girls were hanging onto his arms, drunk as well. Harry smirked darkly to himself. He always preferred it when there were witnesses.

He took out his L115A3 AWM sniper rifle. (He never killed with his wand, just in case the Ministry ever got suspicious and tried to get involved. It took time for magical residue to fade.) It was pure black, with a green barrel. All of his bullets were a matching green, an _Avada Kedavra_ green, which was his signature. He cocked it, and prepared to take his shot.

He had put many charms on his gun, since he wasn't about to rely on completely muggle weapons. That would be idiotic. For example, it was charmed to never run out of bullets, as long as he still had some in his possession, for you can't make things appear completely out of thin air. It took too much time to constantly transfigure items around him into new bullets and never having to manually refill his gun had saved his life _many_ times.

This wizard, supposedly a part of the Wizengamot, was a muggle-lover and very influential. Based on his current... _situation_ , he didn't seem like the most threatening sheep. _Yes_ , Harry thought, _anyone who gets so drunk without protection is obviously an idiot. Who knew who could be trailing you?_

So, Harry took one shot to his greasy face, cackling in his head on how the two strippers reacted. Their blonde hair stained red like their whore lipstick. Their screams were pure bliss to him. But, like always, he couldn't dawdle, so he took his leave. Not one more thought wasted on how he just murdered a man in cold blood.

**  
  
**


	2. What Terrible Parents

_We are who we are, they say. But from the moment we could understand what's happening, we realize, people never want you to be yourself- they just want to see the self that they want to see._

_\- Chad M. Lagiza_

* * *

After taking care of business, Harry calming walked to his car and turned on the engine. It practically purred.

Harry  _could_  apparate, even though he was only 16, but he preferred driving. The feeling of being trapped reminded him of too many bad memories…

He drove down the streets at a speed much faster than the limit and went to his apartment. He lived on the richer side of town just because he never did like to live poorly. He was a man of comfort, after all.

After pulling into the back parking area and warding his car with  _notice-me-not_  charms and wards that didn't allow anyone to enter it besides himself, he walked up to his "home".

It wasn't huge, but it was very stylish, you could say. The walls were a royal purple embroidered with silver. The floor was covered in a dark wood with plush silver rugs littered in various places.

There was a kitchen, which had a more warm feeling to it. The floor was the same dark wood and the walls were a creamy color. He had regular appliances like a fridge, stove, coffee maker, etc. All very  _muggle._

Harry had always been a good cook, even though those skills had been wasted on the Dursley's. Now, he only treated himself.

In the back, down a short hallway, was his training room. It had many forms of exercise equipment and there was another door in that room leading to all his weapons. Of course that door was  _very_ carefully hidden and warded to the best of his ability. On the other side of that hallway was a small library where he kept all of his books. There was a desk where he could work and a small leather couch beside a large bay window where he sat to read.

His bedroom was teal and black. The bed was huge and had silk sheets. Harry was happy with his living quarters, even though that's all they were. His  _home_ had been gone for a very long time. However, he still liked the place because not only did it have everything he needed, but it was surrounded by muggles (not that he liked muggles, it's just that it's easier to  _obliviate_  them than wizards) and had the strongest wards he could create, which were very strong indeed. Since Harry could feel magic, a skill he had learned long ago, he had quickly learned what would take others years. It also helped that the one who taught him  _had_ been a Ward Master herself, but that's beside the point.

He took off all of his weapons and set them on the sink in his bathroom. He never went anywhere, even in his own home, without at least one gun and his wand. He slowly peeled off his black under armor turtleneck and cotton pants. His dragon hide boots came off with them.

He dragged one slender hand through his curly raven-black locks. He looked into the mirror, taking in the face that didn't quite fit him. Silky hair curled under his sharp jawline in what most would think an adorable way. Creamy white skin with not a blemish in sight, besides the fresh-looking scar that adorned his forehead. A small, straight nose and pink cupid's-bow lips made his face look even sweeter. He had the high cheekbones and hollowed cheeks that he knew most purebloods had, a trait adopted from his 'father'.

All of this together completely masked what hid underneath. He looked angelic, but Harry was anything but an angel.

Harry had always been happy with his appearance. Not that he cared if he was handsome or not, it was just easier to manipulate if you had a nice face. He was tall, a nice 5'11, but his lithe build just made him look small, innocent. Along with his perfect, child-like features, most wouldn't expect anything out of him.

No one suspected him to be an experienced killer with a psychopathic mind. All thought him harmless. Either way, Harry didn't really care. If his appearance helped him, then it was a tool that he was happy to have and take advantage of. Besides, it was oh so fun to watch someone's face change from confusion to absolute fear whenever he showed his true colors.

Harry grinned darkly, a grin that didn't fit his face at all, and went into the shower. It was quick and he walked to his bedroom. Tomorrow he had a meeting with someone named Lestrange. He had no idea what they wanted, and he could honestly say he didn't care.

Harry didn't really care about anything anymore. He just liked to kill, and kill he did.

* * *

Lily Potter was a nice woman.

Yes, she did have a missing son and had stopped looking for him some time ago.

And yes, she didn't constantly pine over him as a normal woman would do, but she still had another son to take care of. Why would she waste time worrying over the past?

Who was she kidding. Lily was the worst mother in the world.

For  _years_ her relationship with her husband had been strained. All because she had left her son by himself at the bookstore for  _one damn second._ Everyone acted as if good parenting was something you were born with. That you just  _naturally_ knew what was right and wrong to do. She had called bullshit right away.

Taking care of one child, let alone  _two_ with one of them  _famous_ for god's sake...it was impossible. So impossible that some days she had thought she would break under the pressure. So in a moment of weakness she had left her Hair-Bear by himself.

Her  _sweet_  little 4 year old boy with his impossibly green eyes and messy black curls. With all the reporters around looking for a sneak peek at the Boy-Who-Lived, she had been about to lose it. All she wanted to do was get the new Charms book by Rachel Yorkshire that she had been  _dying_ to read for  _months,_ but James had been working on a job and all her other friends had children of their own to care for...so she had to bring both of her boys with her.

And her sweet  _perfect_ Harry, her wonderful baby boy, he had gripped her hand and taken Jason into his arms and smiled.

_"Don't you worry mama. I'll take care of us."_

And he had looked so  _sure_ and  _mature_ that she believed. She believed he'd be  _just fine_ on his own for one second. But one second had been  _one second_ too long. When she got back- _she hadn't even paid for it just grabbed it off the_ _ **damn bookshelf**_ \- little Jason was just sucking his thumb and Harry was no-where to be seen.

Just... _gone._

She had screamed and shouted, scaring all those around her but  _she did NOT care._ When she cleared the whole shop she checked outside, accusing all those around her of stealing one of the most precious gifts she had ever received. For how could anyone not guilty be going about their lives like nothing had happened? Her  _baby was missing._ Everyone should be shouting and crying with her.

Vile thoughts rushed through her mind...of what could be happening to her precious and  _beautiful_ child, the worst fears of every parent and each second slowly picked away the pieces of her heart like  _vultures._ Eventually there was nothing left and she went home. Fed Jason. Put him to bed. And when James came home she  _cried_ and  _screamed_ and hated herself more than ever because she knew- _she KNEW_  they'd never find him. Even then she  _knew_ with those _damn_ instincts everyone said that mother's naturally had.

Well. She had them.

But they had appeared  _one second too late._

Now though, she told herself she had let go. Together James and her had patched things up, and everyday she would look at her wonderful Jason, the most perfect son she could ever ask for, and she could feel herself healing from the loss she had suffered. And every year she would get better. Harry would become more of a dream than anything. But then the anniversary of his disappearance would come and all the patching she had done, the quilt of her heart, would unravel and burn and she would  _hate herself_. She would hate herself because whatever happened to her Harry was  _her fault._ And the looks James sent her that day and the few weeks after would only make the flames burn brighter and higher. And she knew she had messed up irreversibly. She  _knew_ it.

But today was not that day. Today thoughts of Harry were in the back of her mind, simmering on the stove, forgotten and just  _dying_ to boil over. And when James came up behind her and kissed her neck she actually reveled in the warmth his love provided. Like she fucking  _deserved comfort._ And she thought that maybe she wasn't the worst woman in the world.

But hey, it was only a thought.

* * *

"Wotcher Prongs! How're Prongslet and his friends?" Sirius yelled while pulling his best friend into a bear hug.

Ever since that night when Voldemort marked Jason the two friends had become even closer, especially since both James and Lily had been so close to death.

"Fine Padfoot. Now what's with the meeting? I didn't think You-Know-Who had been doing anything lately."

"Yeah, he hasn't. But  _Snivellus_  heard that some of the Death Eaters are inviting another guy into the fold, supposedly a really powerful one. Since they'll all be in one place, we might be able to kill off- I mean  _capture_  some of the most powerful Inner Circle members all at once."

James's eyebrows crinkled with worry. "What about this new guy? Why is he so powerful?"

"We don't know, but I guess he hasn't chosen a side yet, so he might fight with us." James's eyes lightened at the thought.

If a bunch of those bastards went to a meeting just for  _one_  guy and the Light managed to get him, then they might have a chance to win without endangering Jason.

"Come on, there should be more information in the meeting. I, for one, am just excited to finally get a chance to take down dear Bellatrix."

Sirius's eyes were filled with sadistic glee. He playfully started rubbing his hands together like an evil genius.

"MWAHAHAHA!" James shoved him lightly and said, "Merlin Padfoot, people will start thinking you're psychotic."

"What if I am ickle James-y. What if I am." Sirius raised an eyebrow and dashed into the meeting room before James could shove him again.

He just shook his head lightly and grinned at his best friend's antics. Lily kissed her husband on the cheek, grinning as well. They both went inside the room, not knowing that this moment was when everything was set in motion.


	3. Meeting Destiny

_"I regularly comment on my desire to exploit my admirers or to kill babies and cute animals, and I don't even need to laugh or smile for people to think I am joking."_

―  _M.E. Thomas, Confessions of a Sociopath: A Life Spent Hiding in Plain Sight_

* * *

"Come in, come in! Let us get this meeting started shall we?" Dumbledore's eyes twinkled and he beckoned all his former students forward.

They all sat at a circular table. Those that were present were: James Potter, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, Severus Snape, Nymphadora Tonks, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Alastor Moody, Lily Potter, Minerva Mcgonagall, and finally Albus Dumbledore himself.

"So what's the rub Headmaster? Who's the new player in town?"

"Patience Mr. Black. Wait for Severus to tell his tale." Dumbledore folded his old, wrinkled hands together and gave Snape an encouraging smile, not that he needed it.

"Of course, Headmaster." He sneered.

"Supposedly, there is a powerful assassin living in London. The Dark Lord has heard of his skills and has decided to have a... _chat_  with him. Tomorrow night at 8:30 P.M Bellatrix, the Lestrange brothers, Malfoy, and Barty Crouch Junior are going to meet him in some dark club called "The Ripper's Cauldron."'

"An assassin? Are we sure he would fight with us? Doesn't seem like the type to support the Light." Shacklebolt said.

"He is also supposed to be very young. Not even 20, though I doubt it. He could still be influenced to see the…  _Light_." Snape mentally rolled his eyes at Shacklebolt's antics. Not everything was so black and white. Who knew what this man's circumstances were?

"Of course you are right Severus. He was most likely just forced into that line of work from not having any other way to survive." Albus's eyes glittered at the thought of saving another's soul like how he was not able to save poor Tom's. He would never forgive himself for making that dreadful mistake.

"What's he called?" Sirius asked.

"Most call him "Montresor". It's from one of Poe's short stories,  _A Cask of Amontillado_." Everyone but Dumbledore stared at Snape with confusion.

"It's muggle literature you dolts. Do any of you actually  _read_?" James and Sirius both glared, but they all realized now was not the time to argue.

"Yes, hopefully we can help this poor young man before he's in Voldemort's clutches." They all shivered at the use of his name.

"I would like all of us besides Minerva, Severus, and myself to attend this mission. If you need to stay with your son, Lily, or if this is not a good time Remus, that is perfectly fine. But having the opportunity to capture so many members of Tom's Inner Circle is a top priority. We mustn't fail everyone. For all of our sake's."

* * *

Harry woke up suddenly. He never had to set an alarm, for his inner clock was honed to perfection. Like always, he didn't dream. Ever since he let go of all of his feelings of fear and self-hatred, he never thought about what had happened to him ever again, and the dreams died with them.

He walked to his wardrobe, not making a single sound. He went to exercise like he always did in the mornings and then made some food for himself. After that, he went and read some of his books.

After reading about language, Potions, some Transfiguration, and of course, his favorite, Ancient Runes, he dressed for the meeting at 8:30. He allowed whoever it was to choose the time, but he chose the place. He had many allies in that club, and he would never go anywhere with anybody unless he was familiar with the area they were in.

It was precautionary, for who knew what they wanted from him? Harry was many things, but stupid wasn't one of them. He dressed in a pair of black slacks, a simple white shirt, and a soft leather jacket. He also wore his favorite pair of dragon-hide boots, black as well. He brushed his curly locks and equipped his wand and two handguns.

He wasn't about to carry around a huge sniper rifle, even though he would have preferred to. He also made sure to put on the standard knives and daggers. You could never be too careful. He walked slowly to his car; he was in no hurry, and drove off to what would be a turning point in his life.

* * *

"Damn, We've been here for over 10 minutes! When is he gonna get here?" Crouch complained. His amber eyes and dirty-blonde hair didn't quite fit his crazed expression.

"Patience, Barty," Malfoy drawled, "How do we know he isn't already here and isn't just watching us? Hmmm?"

Barty looked around and his eyes widened comically.

"Don't tease the poor boy." Rudolphus chastised. "Poor thing looks like he's about to have an aneurysm." Rabastian finished for him. They both laughed together evilly.

"Now I wouldn't mind seeing that." Bella's rich brown eyes glittered with malice, her bosom heaving with excitement.

"Calm down pet. You can play with Wormtail once we get back to the Manor." Her husband wrapped an arm around her shoulders. Bella didn't once stop grinning.

All of a sudden they all felt a rush of dark magic similar to their Master's. While his was colder and reeked of more power, this magic was more seductive. It felt like a succubus; you knew it was bad, but it was so good you couldn't resist. They all breathed it in, just letting the feeling wash over them.

"It seems that you all should be a bit more paranoid then, because I've been here the whole time." A light, musical voice flew over them just like the speaker's magic.

Bella, surprisingly, recovered first. "Good evening Mr. Montresor. It's a  _pleasure_  to make your acquaintance."

Bella may have be insane, but that didn't make her any less intelligent. She knew now that they weren't just dealing with anyone. This man could be her  _lord_. She wasn't about to mess this up for her real one.

"Please, my lady, the pleasure is all mine." He stepped out of the shadows, revealing his face for the first time.

He wore a devilish smirk that looked odd on his cherub-like features, but for some reason made him look all the more handsome. Bella was reminded of Lucifer immediately.

He took her hand and kissed it softly with those light pink lips.  _If I was ten years younger_ …she thought to herself. He just grinned all the more, as if he knew exactly what she was thinking.

"Well, not that I haven't enjoyed all of your staring, I believe we should get to business. Firstly, though, I would like to know who all I am speaking to. I believe that makes correspondence  _ever_  so much easier."

He glided over to their booth and took a seat; back facing the wall. They could all tell that he had already warded the entire booth. If you tried you could feel the magic exuding from it.

"What about  _your_  name pretty boy? It's not like you're actually named Montresor." Barty growled.

He was still angry about having been caught unawares. Harry just looked at him. It was odd to say the least. Any thoughts that they may have had that they weren't dealing with someone dangerous were abruptly thrown out the figurative window. His seemingly carefree and arrogant features morphed into a cold looking mask, but they all realized that this wasn't a mask at all. This was his real face.

He was still beautiful, perhaps even more so, because now he looked dark. Now he looked  _dangerous_.

"You will know my name when I wish for it to be known, sir. You were the one's that called this meeting, therefore you owe me an explanation, not the other way around. I can leave right now. I do not owe you anything. Do not presume that I do, or I'll be forced to remove such silly thoughts out of your little head. Are we understood?"

Harry's voice was cold and emotionless as he said it. At times the words he said felt as if they should have been spoken with anger or sarcasm, but none of them were. Everything he said was in a cool and calm monotone, those unnerving eyes never blinking. Suffice it to say, it was 10x scarier than anything they had ever heard or been faced with, besides their Lord of course. None of them doubted the threat he made at Crouch and they all, once again, realized that they weren't just dealing with anybody. They were dealing with someone on their Master's level, or at least someone around it.

"Of course." Lucius bowed his light-golden hair covered head respectfully. Harry's face abruptly changed. It was now back to the carefree and arrogant one. The only one not fearful was Bellatrix, and that was because she realized that this new player would be their key to victory.

_This is going to be so much fun._

Harry caught her eye and grinned, if you could call it that. It was more of a baring of teeth and it was predatory, but it showed his agreement.

_Yes. What fun._


	4. The Killer Within

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings below if you're squeamish!

_"Take your worst nightmares, and put my face to them."_

_-Tommy Lynn Sells_

* * *

"Seriously Sirius? Get the FUCK OFF." James exclaimed.

"Yes I am so seriously serious. However, I am also named Sirius, like  _seriously_." Sirius flicked his hand down and rolled his eyes in a very not-manly way.

"Seriously-I mean, just shut the fuck up Padfoot." Sirius just grinned in reply.

"How about you both shut the fuck up hmmm?" Snape growled.

"I concur!" Tonks said happily. The three enemies stared at her in disbelief. She just continued smiling.

"Quit bickering and _move!_  We need to get to the club in time. Who knows how long we have before they scatter?" Moody whispered.

They all trudged onward, cloaking their obviously Light auras to the best of their ability. Overly Light and Dark wizards, or wizards who had practiced one type of magic or the other only, could sense when another wizard was partial to their opposite type of magic. Since most of them were overwhelmingly Light wizards, besides Snape and surprisingly Moody, in a  _very_ Dark area, they needed to hide.

They soon came upon an obnoxiously light-lit bar with the words "Ripper's Cauldron" written across the top. The letters were crimson-colored and seemed to have an inner glow, similar to fluorescent lights in the Muggle World.

"Come on. We need to see if they're there yet or not." Shacklebolt motioned them all inside and they all stood off in various positions, trying their best to look casual, and checked for familiar faces.

* * *

"So you see, Mr. Montresor, it would be prudent of you to join our Lord. There is a war coming and it would be best if you choose  _our_  side."

Harry just wanted to laugh. Like he hadn't already thought of joining the Dark Lord? The only reason why he hadn't was because he refused to be anyone's servant. If Harry were to join with Voldemort he would either be paid or treated as a partner.

He didn't care how powerful he was; he would never let someone mark him. Never again.

All of a sudden Harry felt a wave of disgustingly Light magic with a tinge of dark and, dare he say it, werewolf? Harry felt the insane urge to giggle. The only werewolf that would be with the Light would be Remus Lupin. So, this must be the Order of the Phoenix. Did these Death Eaters really allow that group of idiots to learn of their plans? How pathetic.

Harry made sure to enhance his wards so it seemed like they were all still talking about their plans, or simply  _very_ easy to ignore, while he said, "I hate to cut this wonderful evening short, but we have company. In the Light variety. I would say to get your wands out, but I see you all already have. Good. Since I'm sure they have come for both you and me, I will fight with you. However, do not take this as an agreement. I will meet with your Lord, then make a decision on where my loyalties lie. We shall make arrangements at a later date."

Harry turned toward his favorite person in the small group. "Care to play together Lady Lestrange? I have a feeling it would be most fun to be your dueling partner."

Bella smiled manically at Harry and he gave her a sadistic grin back.

_She's like a rabid dog…. I believe we shall be the best of friends_.

They all stood up smoothly, even Barty Crouch; he wasn't part of the Inner Circle for nothing. They prepared themselves and with a nod from each of them, Harry snapped his fingers and pandemonium ensued.

* * *

The Order of the Phoenix members had been watching a man cloaked in black and many members of the Inner Circle talking for some time now. However, all of a sudden, it seemed like a false cover was ripped off of them.

In their place were all the of Death Eater's with their wands raised and a boy, probably not more than 15 years old, with a face they would have never expected to see with a group of infamous Death Eaters.

The boy reeked of power and he slowly raised his wand arm. His face was disfigured with an evil expression promising death and pain. His Avada Kedavra green eyes glowed in the dark and he whispered something.

It seemed like everyone but the Order heard what he said, for all other customers exited the building quickly. The bartender nodded his head in the boy's direction in thanks and apparated out as well.

This all happened in a span of 3 seconds. Montresor then cocked his head, looking more like a child then he ever had before. His musical voice was filled with dark humor and was sweet like honey, almost too sweet. "Good evening." Then it all went to hell.

Various spells went off from each side. Greens, dark reds, and purples in the form of dark curses came from Harry's side and bursts of yellow, blue, and red came from the other.

While the Death Eaters were a powerful force, Harry was a being all his own. His wand shot off various dark spells. He hadn't yet said the killing curse, but that was because you couldn't erase the memory of your wand if you cast an unforgivable for about two weeks. Spells that powerful left a residue that couldn't be removed easily.

So for now, Harry played nice. Besides, cutting curses were so much more fun. It seemed that somehow one of those damn Order members summoned back-up for there were now over a dozen aurors inside the club.

For a moment the other Death Eater's seemed to despair, but Harry just smirked over his shoulder and whispered, "Not to worry my dearies. The more the merrier, right?"

Most of the time they would have just ignored anyone with such confidence, but they had felt the full extent of Harry's magic. There was no way they would lose tonight.

Bella grinned to her new favorite playmate and the Lestrange brothers both winked at him. Harry realized that even if he didn't join the Dark Lord, he had a feeling he would continue fraternizing with these dark wizards/witch.

Especially Ms. Bellatrix. Harry decided to forgo his wand and began shooting wizards with his guns. Heads, arms, and legs blew off everywhere and soon enough Harry was covered in blood and gore. He truly looked like some sort of demon, with his baring of teeth and eyes widened with sadistic glee.

He began to cackle, for he had never been in such a battle before. Yes, it was satisfying to kill one person at a time, but there were so many! And the screams were like an orchestra. So many different pitches and wonderfully varied lengths of shrieks.

One after another just randomly ending, which signified another had died, and if  _that_ didn't send a pleasant shiver down his spine... All the screams seemed to work together in harmony and Harry just wanted to sigh in complete and utter pleasure. So he did. And then he laughed some more and the cycle began again.

He could practically  _taste_  the fear in the air. Fear of  _him_. Yes… _this_  was what life was about. Unfortunately, soon all the backup aurors were killed and they were left with fighting the strongest Light people, Order members.

"Love, as much fun this has been, I need to take care of dear couzie." Bella bit Harry on the shoulder and kissed his cheek, staining it with blood from her latest victim. It seemed that Bella enjoyed ripping throats out…literally. Who knew?

"Of course my dear. We  _will_  have to do this again." Bella just nodded vigorously in agreement and skipped away, cackling madly as she went.

Harry was soon faced with Shacklebolt, a supposedly very powerful auror. They dueled for a few minutes, but Harry soon became bored so he sent a cutting curse at his stomach.

Intestines and guts spilled to the ground and his eyes bugged out in a way Harry thought extremely funny. Harry raced up to him and held all of his organs in place. Green eyes bore down into fearful brown.

"Yes my dear  _sweet_ lamb. You feel that? That's your  _life_  slipping away." While Harry whispered all of this in a strangely in-awe tone, he gently lay the shocked auror to the ground. The screams and sounds of battle continued to echo around them, but to those two it seemed as if they were in their own little world.

"You're going to die tonight and there's nothing you can do about it." The complete and utter truth in that statement made Shacklebolt's eyes widen and mouth open as if he meant to say something, but nothing came out. All he managed to do was blink frequently and repeatedly open and close his lips. Lips stained with blood.

Harry then reached inside his chest, ripped out his heart, and showed it to Shacklebolt. Green eyes shone with something the dying man couldn't identify, but was completely terrified of, at the sight of the still-beating organ.

"You can survive 15 seconds without your heart Mr. Shacklebolt. I cannot  _wait_  to see the lights leave your eyes."

They stared at each other, a single tear falling down the black man's cheek. Harry grinned, his eyes speaking of the insanity usually hidden within so many masks. Harry made sure to show his real self whenever he killed up close, for didn't any who were murdered so personally deserve to see their executioner's real face?

" _Goodnight_." Harry whispered, and his final breath was taken.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS: Battle Scene, Semi-Main Character Death, Psychotic Musings, Gore, Detailed death, etc, :D


	5. First Impressions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am seriously not happy with this chapter. So, I'm going to go ahead and post ch. 6 to make up for it. :D Hope you enjoy Harry and Voldemort meeting for the first time!
> 
> WARNINGS: Not very good writing

_"When the Fox hears the Rabbit scream he comes a-runnin', but not to help."_

_― Thomas Harris,The Silence of the Lambs_

* * *

 

It was beyond awful.

It was hell.

His friends, people he had known for his whole  _life_ , dropped one by one. Screaming from their side and cackling from the other could be heard clearly.

The Death Eaters were like demons, and that boy, that  _Montresor_ , was Satan himself.

Like he would  _ever_  come to the Light. There was no way that such an evil, twisted boy would ever fight for what's right.

All of a sudden it was over.

They had won. And  _they_ were going to die.

_They were all going to_ _**die.** _

And the fear was so overwhelming that for a moment they were just shocked. It couldn't be true. Life couldn't end on the dirty ground of a fucking  _bar_.

But then that beautiful, childish face came into focus. His big, too-green eyes blinked owlishly for a moment and red rubies dripped from his perfectly curved brow.

His small, pink lips formed words that they would never remember hearing. Then it all went black and they were gone.

* * *

"What are you doing Montresor?" Lucius asked.

For some reason the boy had obliviated all the remaining Order members.

"What do you think I'm doing Lucius?" Harry made sure to hold out the "s" in his name to make the man shiver. And strode over so he was right in Malfoy's face.

"I'm saving my hide. If Dumbledore were to find out all his  _favorite_  minions were killed off when they came after me then I would be blamed. I have no interest in having one of the world's most powerful wizards of this time after my ass. Especially since I'm not even sure if I want to join the Dark Lord. I don't need both of them after me." Harry took one elegantly shaped finger a licked the remaining drops of blood off of it, painting his pink lips crimson.

"Besides, why not check their minds for Dumbledore's plans? If they return safely with wonderfully made-up memories no one would be the wiser. I'm actually surprised none of you have ever thought of it."

By the time Harry's speech was over Barty was red in the face with outrage, Bella was still kill-happy, and Malfoy/the Lestranges had contemplating looks upon their faces. Rodolphus finally answered with, "A very good plan, one the Dark Lord himself came up with. However, the old coot has put some sort of secrecy charm on all of his closest members. Or at least, that's what he did in the last war."

"And you either don't have the power or overriding the curse will drive them insane before you can get to them?" Nods were what Harry was met with and he bit his lip thoughtfully.

"Alright. So no gaining hidden information. However, there is no reason why you can't put a tracking charm on them. It would help when knowing if they're onto you or not. You could also see when they're meeting and where. Of course it won't last long, but you could probably fool them for a few days."

"Yes, you're right. We'll let them live." Rabastian mumbled.

"Well...as much fun as _this_ has been," Harry said while waving his wand and causing all the bodies and blood to disappear. Bella pouted in the back, for she had been prodding one of the many dead bodies.

"I really must be off. I have other deals to make, contracts to fulfill." Before Harry could completely make his exit, Lucius handed him a small black chain.

"This is timed to portkey you to our Lord's manor at 6:00 tomorrow night. I would suggest going for there will be consequen-"

"And I would suggest keeping threats out of this equation. I assure you, you  _will_  regret it." Harry gracefully left the building and whispered so faintly they could barely hear it.

"See you at six."

* * *

_What the hell is going on?_  James slowly opened his eyes and saw what seemed to be an alley around him.

"Lily? Padfoot? Moony? Are you guys alright?" James tried to raise his head, but found it to be too difficult.

"Ugh. This seriously sucks."

"Really? Quit with the puns Sirius, or I SWEAR."

"Calm down Lils. You know you love it." Lily just rolled her eyes in response.

All of a sudden memories came rushing back. Fighting with the Death Eaters, dozens of Aurors being murdered, Kingsley being killed viciously by Bellatrix, and finally all the Death Eaters grunting in pain from their marks and apparating out of the club.

"Do any of you remember what happened to Montresor? I can barely remember how he looked, let alone where he went. Was he part of the fighting?"

"I don't remember him ever showing his face James. I just remember him running out of the club once the fighting started. I don't think he's sided with the dark quite yet. We might still have a chance."

"I just can't believe Kingsley is dead. I swear I'll kill that bitch!" Sirius yelled.

"Come on, we need to get back to headquarters. Everyone is going to want to know what happened."

"What happened is that we got our freaking  _asses_  kicked. The shame!"

"Quiet Sirius. Since we attacked them before they finished their meeting, chances are they'll have another one. Next time we'll be more prepared. We just need patience."

Then they all apparated out. No idea that bright green orbs had watched their every move.

* * *

After Harry had went home, he had made his food, worked out, and was now sitting in his library, thinking about what he should choose.

_If I don't pick a side, both the Light and Dark will be after me…I'm_   _going to have to choose one or the other._   _Being neutral is sadly no longer an option._

Harry felt the urge to throw something, for he had never wanted to be involved in this war, but he had too much control over himself to do such a silly thing.

He stood up and strode over to one of his large bay windows and watched the night sky; his shoulders tense with indecision.

_But killing all those people was SO much fun. Maybe this is for the best._   _Besides, with my help, the war will end quickly and I'll be in a place of power. I do love power_.  _Besides, I'm sure the Dark Lord will pay a hefty sum for my services._

His decision made, a full-blown smile appeared on his face. However, his eyes made it look much less sincere.

Cold green eyes glowed and spoke of death and pain. No one would be safe ever again.

* * *

Harry had had another dreamless night, but that had been the norm since he was 8 years old.

Last night he killed again. He had received over 10,000 galleons for it; a pretty great haul for only one woman. However, the personal kills always brought in more money, so it was to be expected. She was a pretty little thing too, with an impish face and light blue eyes. It had been fun watching her scream as she lost all of her appendages.

Today, Harry didn't have anything to do, besides go to that meeting at 6:00. Unlike most, who would have been nervous about meeting one of the most powerful wizards of all time, Harry was perfectly calm.

He made some food and worked out,  _again_. Then he read about some new Dark curses. It was a fruitful day for him. He actually almost forgot about going to the meeting, but Harry rarely forgot anything. Next to nothing was ever lost within his mind.

He went to his wardrobe and pulled on his usual outfit. A pair of black slacks, neither loose nor tight, a dark blue shirt, and his favorite black leather jacket which had built-in heating charms and defensive charms. He strapped in his usual weaponry and his wand.

Since his hair was not long enough to be pulled back he let his boyish curls frame his face. No matter how much he pushed them back, they refused to not curl around his jawline in the most adorable fashion... Harry sighed and grabbed onto the portkey. 5...4...3...2...1...and he was gone.

* * *

The Dark Lord felt him the second he port keyed in. Even a squib probably could if they tried hard enough.

He had heard of this assassin for quite some time now. With deadly accuracy and no conscience, he was the perfect killer.

But no one,  _no one_  spoke of how much raw power he possessed.

It was oh so dark and absolutely  _delicious_. Voldemort just breathed it in and felt it curl around his own magic.

It tested and tasted it. Soon enough, it seemed that it deemed his magic satisfactory and the magic seeped into his own. Voldemort would have sighed in pleasure if he were a lesser man.

Never had he felt magic that was so much like his own, yet completely different. He knew now that he had to have this boy. If he couldn't, then no one would.

* * *

Harry felt the Dark Lord's magic almost immediately. He now knew why so many followed this man.

His magic, it was  _unreal_. Harry almost lost himself in it, key word  _almost_.

He just let his own magic lead him to where Voldemort was. Harry found himself in front of two large black doors with snakes engraved everywhere.

_Whatever fits your fancy I suppose._

Harry didn't bother knocking. He knew the Dark Lord could tell where he was. Besides, he wanted to get this meeting over and done with. For some reason he was craving some hot chocolate….

He stepped inside and bowed his waist down at a respectable angle. He didn't care if Voldemort expected him to go on his knees, he would never do that for _anyone._

Without looking up he whispered in his light melodic voice, "Good evening Lord Voldemort. May I say it's a  _true_  pleasure to finally meet you." His voice echoed with his magic, for Voldemort's was making it a bit restless. He needed to go torture someone.

"Yes. I've heard much about you my little assassin. I do hope that it's all true."

Harry decided to look up now. He slowly lifted his upper body and cracked his back. He ran his hand through his boyish curls and grinned sharply at the Dark Lord. He tipped and cocked his head to the left and whispered, "Oh I assure you  _my Lord_. Everything and more is true about  _this_  little assassin."

Lord Voldemort's deep chuckle echoed throughout the room. "I see. Well, let's get to business shall we?"

 

 


	6. New Findings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now this one is much better than Ch. 5. And remember--not everything is as it seems. :D

_"A good friend will help you plant your tulips. A great friend will help you plant a gun on the unarmed intruder you just shot."_

_― Brian P. Cleary_

* * *

James had been having a wonderful day, or the best that he could have nowadays.

Jason ended up getting 8 OWLS, You-Know-Who hadn't attacked anyone in over a month, and Lily and him were getting along better than ever. Said woman wrapped her slender arms around him and pulled him into her warm embrace. But for some reason, all he could think about was how things  _should be._

Ever since- _Merlin_ it hurt just to think about. Ever since  _Harry_  disappeared...it had all felt so  _fake._

The smiles and laughs, pranks pulled and jokes told, everything was  _forced_ and dead. Dead dead dead. Nothing real nothing  _alive_ anymore.

Sometimes, even though he would  _never_ tell anyone, he felt...he felt like everyone and everything around him wasn't even real. That he had died the day before Harry disappeared and this was his hell. And you know how he knew? It was so artfully done...so  _perfect_ that it just couldn't  _be_ reality. Everything wasn't taken-no no no not everything because that would be  _suspicious_ but his first born son, his beautiful boy was gone and yet things had returned to normal. Like everything was  _okay._ How could it be? When his moon was gone?

Jason had always been like the sun, constantly bright and  _alive,_ never one to be ignored. Beautiful and perfect, the light of his life. But Harry...he was like a breath of fresh air. Those lonely nights where you'd sit and look up at the stars and even though you didn't feel the calming heat on your face that the sun gifted you, somehow you knew everything was going to be alright. He remembered sitting at night with him, reading him stories and telling silly tales and Harry would just grin and stare, perfectly quiet and still, so unlike Jason. So much like the moon. He didn't take any effort at all to take care of. Always polite, always kind.

Just  _there._

He still had an inner glow, just like the sun. But he was  _peaceful._ And how on Earth could his life still be peaceful without him?

"What is it love? Is something the matter?"

James twisted so they were facing each other, hazel eye to brilliant green.  _Green that I should see in another's face._

"No, nothing at all." He leaned in for a kiss, inwardly wondering if this wasn't the devil himself, laughing inwardly at his foolishness. He died a little inside and he wondered how much he actually had left until it was over.

But then his thoughts were put on hold and yet again he fell into the caricature of what his life  _should_ be. And he smiled. And he could feel his insides withering away.

"Prongs, you menace! Seduce your wife later, we have an Order meeting to get to!"

Both James and Lily rolled their eyes always playing along, never showing how dead they truly were and hid their doubts and self-loathing deep within. Like they knew they had to, lest they fall apart completely.

* * *

"What's going on Headmaster? I didn't think You-Know-Who had been active lately."

Everyone took their seats at the circular table, one chair obviously empty, marking the place of a dear friend who had passed.

"We've come across some new information. It seems to be that our young Montresor rejected Tom's invitation. Severus, tell everyone what happened exactly."

Everyone looked toward the man himself and took in his... _less_  than perfect appearance. With his pale skin whiter and more sickly looking than ever and slight tremors wracking through his entire body, it was obvious that Snape had undergone at least a few minutes of the  _Cruciatus_  curse. There was a light sheen of sweat over his brow and his black eyes lacked their usual fire.

"After Montresor arrived at 6:00 he talked with the Dark Lord for some time. All of a sudden the Dark Lord's magic became extremely angry. There were sounds of dueling and a man, I'm assuming Montresor, came running down the halls. He was too quick to catch and he managed to get out of the Manor before the Dark Lord could kill him. Afterwards, anyone that could have stopped Montresor was put under the  _Cruciatus_  curse, then sent away. I don't know what the man did, but whatever it was, I pray the Dark Lord never finds him. Death will be a gift after  _he_  is through with him."

Everyone sat in silence for a moment. James and Sirius would never admit it, but at that moment they realized what all Snape actually  _did_  for the Order. Their sentimental thoughts were interrupted with Snape's eyes coming back to life and him saying, "On his way out, I managed to put a tracking charm on him. Since he has refused the Dark Lord and he'll be after him, I have no doubt Montresor will choose the Light to join. Otherwise, the poor man won't survive."

Everyone brightened at that news. If Montresor could escape You-Know-Who in his own home then he would be an invaluable asset.

"Do you have any idea his age? Did you get a look at his face?" Dumbledore asked in his normal grandfatherly fashion. Snape sneered at his attitude but answered without complaint.

"No. But I would say his early thirties. Enough time to become skilled at what he does, but still youthful enough to move around easily."

"Alright Severus. Tomorrow evening we should confront this  _Montresor_. I have no doubt that Voldemort is already looking for him. Hopefully we can save him before it's too late."

* * *

Harry was just relaxing at home when he sensed other magical auras in the vicinity. Before he could even put up extra wards, at least five wizards forced themselves into his apartment.

Harry leaped up, not looking flustered in the slightest. While pulling the gun out of his back pocket Harry chastised, "You know, boys and girls, it's not nice to enter a house without knocking first. Do I need to teach you all a lesson?" Harry cocked his head to the right like a bird and grinned evilly. The leader, or so it seemed, growled.

"No one defies our Lord so openly. He deserves your utmost respect you dirty  _Mudblood_."

Harry stared at him for a moment, Avada Kedavra green eyes betraying nothing. Then his bow shaped lips slowly stretched into a grin; an innocent looking grin, until you saw his eyes. They were like an icy tundra.

"I assure you,  _boy,_ that my blood is nothing you need concern yourself with. Now, what is it that you wanted exactly?" He took one step forward and it all went to hell.

Again.

* * *

"So, tell me again why we need to sneak up on this guy? I thought we were gonna talk to the bloke, not  _murder_  him." Sirius grumbled.

"Are you that much of a dolt Black? Constant vigilance I always say! How can we know how he'll react?" Mad-eye glared at them all and wagged his finger in a very condescending fashion. "How you all became Aurors I'll never know…"

"But he denied You-Know-Who! Why wouldn't he be cool with us?"

"The world isn't divided into good people and Death Eaters you twit. He could just not want to live under the Dark Lord's thumb. It means nothing on whether his loyalties lie with the dark or the light." Snape sneered.

"Right you are my boy. However, I have a feeling our young Montresor will join the right side." Dumbledore appeared out of no where.

"We are here." Snape mumbled while checking the time. It was 8:43 P.M.  _The man should still be awake,_ Snape thought.

Then, out of the blue, one of the apartments on the top floor blew up and a man came falling out of a window with 5 men running after him. He jumped onto another roof, but was caught in the back with a red-looking curse. Dumbledore and the rest of the Order quickly apparated up to the roof and fought off the remaining Death Eaters.

It wasn't too hard; they were all lower level ones. After Tonks apparated them to the Ministry, everyone went to what they hoped to be a still-breathing Montresor.

The man seemed to be curled up in on himself, but Dumbledore quickly turned him over. The sight that they were met with astonished them all.

Black-as-night curls matted with dirt and pale unblemished skin appeared sickly in the darkness. His muscles could be seen clenched under tight black clothing. A few drops of blood fell from the male's pink lips. He was a rather pathetic sight, but that wasn't what worried all the Order members.

No, what truly troubled them was the fact that this  _boy_  could be no older than 15. This was no man, but a child. Dumbledore recovered first and took the poor boy in his arms. He apparated to headquarters along with everyone else, conflicted thoughts buzzing through their minds.

 


	7. Intentions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Sorry about not updating yesterday. I'm gonna slow them down a bit so when I finish chapter 12 and post it on FF, you guys will not have had to wait a while. :D So one every couple days. Besides, this one has a bit of a cliffie so I wanna make you despair. :D Anyway, enjoy! 
> 
> No need for warnings....unfortunately. >:D

_"I try to keep in mind," I recite dryly as I run the front sight of my pistol over his face, "that my life is only as significant as I am to the lives of others." He's sobbing and won't look up from the floor so I lean close to his ear and ask softly, "Would you say that I'm significant to your life?"_

―  _Dennis Sharpe, Blood & Spirits_

* * *

Harry woke up and was alert immediately. He forced open sleepy lids, pulled at aching muscles, and took in his surroundings with sharp eyes. The first thing he noticed was that he was in some sort of infirmary.

_Of course_. Harry thought while getting up.  _Once the Order members defeated those Death Eaters they took me back to their headquarters. They must have treated me here._

Harry flexed his arms and made his way to what looked to be a bathroom. He quickly washed, for Harry detested the grimy feeling that too many s _courgifys_ left on a person, and wandlessly  _accioed_  all of his clothing. Harry couldn't help but lightly laugh when they came to him unhindered.

_I can't believe no one warded my bag. At least I can safely assume I'm not considered an enemy and/or prisoner. Or they don't think I'm capable of wandless magic. Not that it matters either way of course._

He pulled out a loose pair of jeans and a royal purple long-sleeved shirt. He always kept a fresh set of clothes with him just in case he was ever in this type of situation, which had just happened to pay off. He slipped on his black dragon-hide boots which the others had been kind enough to leave with him and went to see which weapons they took. Like he expected, all his guns and knives were gone.

_At least they aren't_ _ **that**_   _stupid. For a moment I thought both sides may have been playing a joke on me, or some sort of test. My wand is also missing. No matter, once I show I'm not a threat they'll return it to me._

Harry grinned to himself and was sad to see there weren't any wards on the door. He would've loved to try his hand at taking down Light wards wandlessly.

_Pity_.  _I do hope the rest of my time here isn't as dreadfully predictable._ He chucked to himself while stroking the his black bracelet with a snake-shaped symbol in the center that he now wore on his right wrist and calmly left the room.

* * *

"When should we expect him up Albus?" McGonagall asked politely.

"In the next few hours or so I expect. Not that I'm an expert in such matters. What say you Severus?"

Snape had been digging at his yellowed finger nails with the usual grimace on his face when he heard his name called. He slowly lifted his greasy black-haired head and said quietly, "An hour if not less actually. His magic did most of the work for me when I began to heal him. I suspect if we left him on the roof he would have healed on his own in a matter of days."

"He's truly that powerful then?"

"Definitely." At that moment the Marauders and Lily entered the room.

"So, how's the kid?" Sirius asked.

"Quite well actually Mr. Black. We should get answers to our many questions in just under an hour." Dumbledore's eyes twinkled.

"What I'm wondering is how a boy our own son's age could be out assassinating people! You must have made some mistake Headmaster. There's absolutely no way!" Lily cried.

"Yea, there's no way a 15 year old could be so infamous. Do you think that maybe it was the kid's dad that's named Montresor?"

"Don't worry yourselves. Soon, all of our questions shall be answered."

"Besides," Snape drawled. "do you truly think that the Dark Lord would send his men out to the wrong person? No, that  _boy_  as you all call him, is dangerous. A child with the right skills and motivation can be just as dangerous as any adult.

"Yes, we must all be on our toes." Dumbledore nodded solemnly. Lily and James left the room soon after, wanting to spend some more time with their son. The rest sat there quietly for a moment when they heard someone coming out of the fireplace.

"Wotcher guys! Sorry for the hold-up. Paper work and all." Tonks yelled while tripping over a chair leg. "All of the guys now have their own personalized cell in Azkaban."

"Excellent Nymphadora. Now, about what we are going to do-" Everyone abruptly stopped and turned to the sound of someone clearing their throat.

"Excuse me," A young, soft voice whispered. "I'm sorry for intruding, but I would very much like to know where exactly I am, and who you all are, if you don't mind."

The figure in the doorway was leaning slightly and had his head tipped and cocked slightly in a curious and very young-looking fashion. His legs were crossed at the ankle and small pale hands were wrapped together behind his back. Thinly arched eyebrows formed a small frown in the center of his forehead and his lips were pursed. He could be the poster-boy for innocent curiosity.

"I apologize, I didn't mean to startle you. I'm merely confused, that's all." Those small lips curled into a bashful smile and bright white teeth shone. Albus, unsurprisingly, recovered first.

"Of course my boy! No wonder you're confused. Waking up in an unknown area and all. Please, come and sit down." The seemingly short body straightened itself and strode over to the table carefully. He took a seat and leaned forward, his chin resting in the heels of long-fingered hands.

"Firstly, I would like to thank you all for your assistance. Not only did you take care of those who attacked me, but you sheltered and healed me. Not many would have taken the time to do this." He tipped his head forward and a slight blush lit his shallow cheeks.

"There is nothing to thank. However, if you are willing, we would like to ask you some questions. Would that be alright?" The youthful boy's eyes brightened at the thought of repaying the people who helped him so much and nodded his head slightly, one stray curl falling over his right eye.

"Of course sir. I would love to answer any and all questions you have."

* * *

_Jesus fucking Christ this is just too good._

Harry had always been a great actor. What with having no emotions, it was easy to lie. It was  _actually_  easier to lie than to tell the truth. But, at this moment, it was almost too hard not to laugh.

These Light players actually thought he could be a good little assassin and work for them! It was just… _precious_.

His inner cackling was interrupted when the powerful old man asked, "Well, our first question is, did you truly kill all those people, my boy? If so, why on earth did you do it?"

Of course he had planned for these type of questions, what with his background, but even now he rethought on what he wanted to do. He'd have to play this game until the end of the war, and pretending to be a perfect little boy got tiring  _very_  quickly.

However, with one glance at the twinkle in the eldest wizard's eye and the glares from all the others around him, he knew exactly what mask he should wear.

He made himself grimace slightly and hardened his eyes and mouth a bit, making it look as if the question bothered him.

"I-yes. I  _did_  do those things. I did what I had to do to survive sir. I regret some of the people I... _killed_. But some of them were just as terrible as the current Dark Lord. Those, I do not, and will _never_ regret." He leaned back and looked to see what his words caused.

While the others thought over his words, he slid his eyes over the many faces in the room.

_Albus Dumbledore, of course, a very powerful wizard. I'll have to watch myself with that one. I'm powerful, but I'm not on his level yet. That type of power comes with time._

_There's Minerva McGonagall. Again, a powerful witch, but not as powerful as either Dumbledore or the Dark Lord. I could defeat her, she is no threat._

Then there were a few Aurors that he didn't even take the time to consider. Harry was undoubtedly more powerful than all of them combined. There was Severus Snape that he needed to deal with though. Potion's Master and double-agent extraordinaire.

Best to nip that in the butt as soon as possible.

Their questions continued from there, but the last few were what caught Harry's attention.

"What exactly happened between you and Voldemort, my boy?" _Hmmm. Easy that one._

"I said no. I will not work with someone so bent on destroying an entire race. Even though I don't care for them too much, they're still people. We can't judge an entire group just because a few of them are bad. That's like judging the whole wizarding world on how the Dark Lord acts." Dumbledore's eyes just twinkled and nodded in agreement.

_Of course you agree, you probably feel the exact same way as I do. Except on a few of my more...ruthless opinions anyway. It's the only logical way to think about it._

Then, the famous Auror Black asked suspiciously, "Now, why on earth would you call him the Dark Lord? Only his Death Eaters ever call him that."

Harry just wanted to laugh, but that would be a bit too much like his actual character. So instead, he put on a frustrated mask.

"First of all, I'm never going to call him You-Know-Who or any of that rubbish. That's for the fearful. I'm also not going to call him Voldemort. Not because I'm afraid. Merely for respect."

Black pshed and leaned back in his seat. "Sounds to me like you're a Death Eater all right."

Harry's eyes narrowed a fraction in annoyance, and that he didn't need to fake.

"I don't need to be a Death Eater to respect the Dark Lord. He's an incredibly powerful man. He did come back from the dead after all. I'm not on his power level, and neither are you by the way, therefore, I do not have the right to call him by his own given name. The only person in this room with that right is you, sir." Harry nodded towards Albus old man's eyes just twinkled even more.

Harry wasn't stupid. He truly did believe all those things. Both men were extremely powerful and he didn't pretend to be on their level. If he had been, he wouldn't have picked a side in the first place. No, both men were to be respected and wary of. Even though he didn't quite see eye to eye with Dumbledore, he was high on Harry's list of people to kill, which was a compliment in Harry's opinion. If he was going to get anything out of this war Dumbledore would have to die. It wasn't anything personal; he just wanted power.

"Is that why you haven't called me by my name Montresor?"

"Yes sir, I don't have the right to call you by your given name." By that point Dumbledore's eyes were twinkling much more than normal.

_He must use magic to get that effect. There's no way in hell that's natural._  Black now looked appeased.

_I knew he wasn't completely stupid, but his blatant hate is going to get him killed._

Harry got up to leave, but Dumbledore just shook his old, whitened head.

"I have one more question my boy." Harry nodded his acknowledgment. Already guessing what exactly he wanted to know. "What is your real name?"


	8. Choosing Sides

_"The hottest places in hell are reserved for those who, in times of great moral crisis, maintain their neutrality."_

_― John F. Kennedy_

* * *

A name.

It's what you are really. When you think of a person as a whole, you don't just think of their deeds, or their personality traits. You don't even think of their associates. You think "so and so is this" or "so and so did this".

That 'so and so' is the  _name._

There is power with a name. Your name is  _who you are._ That's why every mask needs a different one.

"Julian. Julian LaFaye." His rich voice sounded through the whole room and everyone watched as he gave a graceful bow, his eyes bright and an honest smile on his face.

The picture of innocence. Just what he needed to be.

Yes, this was one of his most useful facades. No one expected that angelic face to smile with just the hint of white teeth while  _ripping your heart out_  and biting into it like an apple. All the while  _smiling_.

He straightened out again and whispered as if it were some sort of special secret, "I give you my true name in the strictest confidence, not many know of it." _Only because I kill them before they have a chance to tell._

_"_ I trust none of you will scream it out in the streets of London then, yes?" A few nods were given and Julian gave another blinding smile.

Not a hint of the inner feelings of this  _monster_ , for there was no other word for him, were shown in those seemingly clear, honest green eyes. For within, there was nothing. Nothing but darkness and love for death. But maybe, just maybe, it would all change.

For the better or worse, that remains unclear.

* * *

Snape couldn't believe the young boy they had spoken too.

He reminded Snape of  _someone_. He just didn't know who. For a minute he had thought it was the Dark Lord. But then he realized that if anything, this boy was even  _more_ dangerous than Voldemort.

The boy was intelligent and observant, but also acted like a 16 year old boy. However, at the same time he was very mature and you couldn't help but sympathize with his situation, even though Snape had seen what types of murders the boy committed. There was no remorse in those killings. Either they were enjoyed, or there wasn't any feeling given during.

No, this boy was _crafty_. Snape couldn't read him at all and that, dare he say it,  _scared_ him. His "Lord" had always been straightforward about what he did. That's what made him so formidable. You went to him knowing  _exactly_ what he would do to you, but you still did because you craved the power, confidence, and intelligence he possessed. Julian was a mixture of the old coot and Voldemort in a way. He was dark, dangerous, and charming like the Dark Lord, yet was manipulative and put on an innocent and oblivious mask like Dumbledore. It was an awful combination, for anyone against him at least, but the worst thing was that he didn't even  _know_ if his speculations were correct or not. It was infuriating.

This boy though... he was one that Snape didn't understand. Why would someone with such obviously dark magic want to join Dumbledore? It just didn't make sense. His musings were interrupted by said boy coming up behind him and tapping him on the arm lightly. Everything but his extremely  _familiar_ green eyes disappearing into the shadows.

"Excuse me, Mr. Snape. I don't wish to disturb you, but I have a few questions I need to ask you. Would you mind following me to a more  _private_ area?" Even though the words themselves sounded suspicious, the boy's face just looked so innocent…. Snape couldn't believe his own thoughts.

This boy was not some sort of devil incarnate hidden behind a well-crafted mask! No one, let alone a  _teenager,_  was that collected! No, this boy was just like any other of the many snot-nosed dunderheads at Hogwarts, just a bit more mature and respectful.

Snape nodded in agreement and followed the boy, having to walk a bit faster to catch up with his long strides. Once they were in one of the many empty rooms of headquarters, Julian, unknowingly to Snape, locked the door and set up many wards and charms. One of those being that any word spoken within the room while they were both inside could not be repeated or legitimized out of Snape's head. It was a very useful piece of  _parselmagic._

Julian decided to shred his mask down to the one closest to his real face. He didn't  _like_ to pretend so much, but he also didn't enjoy showing himself. This mask was the closest one to his actual personality, not that he really had one, so it didn't stress him out. Julian turned around and transfigured a piece of paper and some book on Potions into two comfortable armchairs. He motioned his arm for Snape to sit down and he did while shoving his amazement at the boy's transfiguration skills behind thick Occlumency walls.

"Sir, I truly don't wish to 'beat around the bush' as the muggles say, and I just don't have the time and patience to manipulate the answers out of you about this. I'd rather not pull it out of that carefully blocked head of yours either, for I would surely destroy your mind in the process, but I will if I must. Do your loyalties lie with the Dark Lord or the Light Lord?"

Snape just stared for a moment. Bright, innocent eyes had abruptly turned hard and cold. He wasn't sure which were more attractive. Everything about the face was purely blank. Not one emotion shone through. It was... _unnerving_ to say the least. The boy was leaning forward on his knees and a lock of hair fell in front of his eyes, like it did earlier, but this time it did not look endearing at all.

Snape put up his usual sneer, but this time it wasn't out of actual annoyance. It was out of fear.

"Why should I tell you anything? It's none of your business which side I am on,  _little boy_." Julian acted as if he had just been given his answer and he was pleased. Snape likened his face to a cat finally getting the cream. He leaned back into his seat, arms crossed behind his head, those eyes filled with amusement and the small pink lips curled into a smirk.

"Just as I had suspected. You are walking a fine line in between- intelligent move. One I would have taken myself if I hadn't been such a determining player in this war. At the moment, as I'm sure you can tell, both sides are at a relatively equal point. However, the second the Dark Lord takes over the Ministry Dumbledore will be at a  _huge_  disadvantage, as I'm sure you know. Malfoy can easily manipulate Fudge, he is an idiot after all, however, his term is coming to an end soon, and Fudge isn't in many people's good graces right now. I also highly doubt he's about to do anything worthwhile to get back into them, even if he had the mental capacity  _to_ do anything about it. It all depends on who is elected, or on how many believe the Dark Lord is back. These are determining points in the war, do you agree?"

Snape nodded his head, a bit wowed at this boy's knowledge on politics when most his age were busy with Quidditch and girls. He didn't show any of it though; he had dealt with  _much_ more surprising situations.

"Well, with my help, not only can I assassinate Rufus if he gets too many votes, I can also  _plant evidence._ If Rufus were to suddenly kill a wizard or two because they had slept with his wife; for you know how easy it is to incite a man in love's paranoia and wrath, but not give this 'information' to the public, I can't imagine many wanting him as their leader. Would you?"

Julian head was now cocked to the side and he was leaning forward in his seat again. His calm voice, now a deeper, more rich sound than the one from before, which was still high as if puberty had not yet set in, betrayed no doubts.

"No, I think not."

"Of course you don't. You're an intelligent man. You know your way around a cauldron better than anyone I've ever met. I read your paper,  _Wolfsbane, Is There a Better Cure?_  and I have to say it was  _brilliant_. I like to think I'm pretty good with potions, but you're on a whole different level sir. Why you work as a  _professor_  I'll never know. Probably some deal with Dumbledore on how he kept you out of Azkaban for all that  _Death Eater_ nonsense... However, that isn't the point of this conversation. I'm giving you a chance sir. A chance to not be killed. A chance to be where you  _belong_. I respect you for your abilities, your Occlumency skills, and your cunning mind and ruthlessness when it comes to getting what you want. Your death would be an utter  _waste_ and even though I take it for a living, I don't enjoy causing unnecessary bloodshed. You are a powerful ally, and that is why I've told you all this. I'm not saying for you to abandon your post. You're doing a fantastic job spying. However, I am saying to quit spying for yourself. Spy for the  _right_ side. Spy for  _my side."_

Snape was entranced. He wasn't stupid- he knew most of LaFaye's speech was purely manipulative. However, he could also tell it was all true, as all the best manipulations were. He leaned forward; a position similar to LaFaye's, and licked his lips, black eyes bright for the first time in over a decade.

"And which side would that be Julian?" His smirk transformed into a dark grin and those bright green eyes darkened with malice. All of a sudden the angelic appearance from before completely disappeared; not that there had been much left of it. What was left in it's place was what Snape could only think of as the Devil himself.  _And I thought I was being absurd earlier._

"I think we both know which side that is, Mr. Snape. I'll see you at dinner."

And the boy left, leaving Snape with a happy grin of his own.

 


	9. Betrayal, the Sweetest Sin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! I would just like to mention that for now on I will refer to Harry as Julian. I know that some may not like that (I myself don't enjoy it when Harry's name is completely changed for no reason *cough* femHarry *cough*) but know that this isn't for forever. Eventually his secret will be found out. Actually, in the future Harry will wear different "masks" and will therefore have different names. In a situation, he will be referred to by whatever name the mask he currently wears has. Sorry for any confusion. 
> 
> BTW: MAJOR WARNINGS AT THE BOTTOM AND NOTES. If you're squeamish, please read them. But I have warning tags for a reason. I would like you to read the notes though. I wrote some info down there that you may want to know.

_I am thy father's spirit,_

_Doom'd for a certain term to walk the night,_

_And for the day confined to fast in fires,_

_Till the foul crimes done in my days of nature_

_Are burnt and purged away._

_(1.5.5)_

* * *

With a pair of headphones on and  _Danse Macabre_ pounding into his ears while he read a surprisingly interesting muggle book about the adventures of Dexter Morgan, Julian could honestly say he was completely content. That was, until  _someone_ decided to knock on his door, interrupting his favorite part of the song. A lesser man would have sighed or rolled his eyes. Instead, Julian just calmly pressed the pause button and memorized the page and line he was on in the book, even though he was inwardly seething.  _No one_ interrupted his music time.

Unlike most, Julian had his day structured. Every morning he woke up at precisely 6:30 AM and would go take a 30 minute jog or just exercise. Then, he would take a 15 minute shower and read for about an hour. After that, he would head to his kitchen and make himself breakfast. Afterwards he would begin his studies, which took around 3 to 4 hours. On weekends it only took 1 or 2. The rest of his day was spent completing contracts or whatever he wanted. It just depended upon the day of the week and what he felt like doing.

Anyways, the point  _is,_ is that Julian wasn't used to having his daily routine interrupted. And he couldn't say he enjoyed the change.

So far he had only stayed one night at Grimmauld place, but he could already tell his long fuse would be at  _least_ half way burnt by the end of it. Good thing Julian was extremely patient and had a tight rein on his almost non-existent emotions. He pulled open the door with ease and sent a "sleepy" smile at whoever was at the door. He rubbed one lightly tightened fist against his left eye and scratched his stomach. Every movement was planned to endear and manipulate whoever had sent for him, for why else would his whole demeanor seem so open and vulnerable?

"Mornin'. Sorry I didn't answer sooner. M' just so sleepy still. Do I need to go down yet?" Julian moved his hand to cover his mouth in a fake yawn and blinked sluggishly at his guest; knowing that they would find him to be next to irresistible.

Julian knew this because he had read the woman the second he opened the door. She was obviously a mother to many children, judging by the way her eyes shined at his antics and her slightly chubby body, which was most likely a result of one too many pregnancies, which would make her easily swayed by a calm and polite child because her own kids, probably boys, didn't take the time to be respectful to their own parent.

Since they were all most likely teens, judging by her wide array of premature wrinkles, or they had already left the house, made it likely she would try to "adopt him" because of her need to have the children who had left her back, and any mother with that many children had to have an almost obsessive need to save any child without parent's of their own. With a glance he noticed all of these things and more.

"Oh! I'm sorry to have woken you. I did come here to take you downstairs since Albus  _did_ say you should come down and meet everyone…" Julian blinked owlishly at that and drew his eyebrows together slowly, "but I'm sure we could wait a little while longer! I'm Molly Weasley by the way."

Julian gave the ginger woman his most boyish grin and lent down to kiss her hand. By the end of it she was more red than her hair.

"The pleasure is all mine Mrs. Weasley. I'm Julian LaFaye. And now that I'm up, I'm sure I'll be able to make it down soon...maybe you could give me another half hour? I'm sorry, it's just last night...well, it was a bit stressful. What with the questions and the Death Eaters-"

The Weasley woman's, who he now knew as one of the last of the Prewett family, eyes grew wide in motherly-anger, a behavior he had known she would react with. He could practically  _taste_ her motherly instincts grabbing onto him and making him one of her own.

_One more Light minion in my pocket. Marvelous._

"Say no more! I don't know  _what_ he was thinking anyways. Asking me to wake you up at 7:30 in the morning! You take as much time as you need sweetheart. Breakfast will be waiting for you."

Harry brightened up his smile a few notches, but made sure to keep his eyes unfocused and body sagged. No use in making her think he was ready before he actually  _was._

"Thank you so much ma'am. See you in a bit."

Mrs. Weasley just smiled in return, completely forgetting that who she was talking to killed people for a living and was wanted by the Darkest wizard to ever live as an ally. Meaning that he was probably Slytherin to the core and manipulating her in every sense of the word.

However, all she could see was his sleep-tousled curls and unfocused emeralds, making her putty in his hand. With one last pat on the arm she took her leave, and Julian abruptly straightened out and pushed his ink-black hair out of his face. He smirked evilly, but didn't get any satisfaction from his successful manipulation. This was just a job after all. However, he couldn't help thinking to himself with just a hint of smugness,

_Sometimes it's just good to be me._

* * *

"So, who's staying in the guestroom Mum? I didn't think anyone else was staying here besides everyone in the Order." Lily leaned over and gently ran her hands through her son's auburn locks.

_Feels just like his father's._ She thought with a smile.

"It's just someone who will hopefully help in defeating You-Know-Who. I haven't met him yet, but we should all see him at breakfast. I don't think he's much older than you so maybe you can help make him feel welcome?"

She said that with a raised eyebrow; making it obvious it  _wasn't_ just a suggestion. Jason pshed and pushed his mother's hand away. He wasn't  _five_ anymore; he didn't want his mother playing with his  _hair_ of all things.

"My age huh? I doubt he'll be much help then. But...as long as he isn't some  _Slytherin_ , I'm sure me, Ron, and Hermione won't mind befriending him."

Lily silently berated her son's prejudice, but she couldn't blame him too much. The Slytherins constantly taunted her boy and most of the Death Eaters came from that house as well. However, her best friend Severus was a Slytherin and had seen the light in the end, so why couldn't any of the others?

She knew it would do no good to say anything. Hopefully her dear boy would lose his prejudice after he and his peers had all grown up though. As they entered the kitchen Lily was met with the sight of all of her greatest friends and loved ones sitting together and talking amiably. She couldn't help the slight watering of her eyes, for who knew how long this would last?

Yes, You-Know-Who had been silent lately, besides contacting the boy known as Julian LaFaye, but that didn't mean it would last forever. She wasn't naive enough to think so. Lily walked over and sat between her husband and Remus, who was the man she got along with the best besides James, and started spreading some jam onto a piece of toast. At the table was Sirius, James, Remus, Ron, Molly, her son, and Albus Dumbledore himself. Speaking of Albus…

"Professor, not to be rude or anything, but why are you here? Don't you have more important business to attend to?" Her long-time idol smiled jovially and light blue eyes twinkled. His whole being just screamed,  _You can trust me._ And trust him she did.

"Well, you do know who is staying here correct?" At her nod he continued.

"Well, since no one here has actually met him I thought it'd be a good idea for him to have at least one familiar face. Besides, Molly's cooking is by far the best thing I've ever tasted. How on earth could I miss that?" Said woman's cheek turned a faint pink and she laid a few more pancakes on the table.

"Thank you headmaster. Julian should be down in just a bit by the way. However, I'm not about to rush the poor boy. You should have seen how tired he looked! I'm afraid he might have just went on back to sleep, not that I blame him. He's been through an ordeal that one."

Molly nodded to herself and wiped her hands on her apron. Her son, Ron, looked flabbergasted though.

"You never let me go back to bed though! He can't have been  _that_ tired. And I'm your son! Shouldn't I be treated better than some ruddy Death Eater?!" Molly glared and turned around from the bacon she had been fixing. Before she could respond though a light knock was heard by everyone in the room.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt. How do I always manage to come at the wrong time?" The voice whispered with a laugh. "Good morning Lord Dumbledore, Mrs. Weasley."

Everyone turned to the soft-sounding voice that came from the doorway to the kitchen, the adults interested in the "powerful assassin" and the children in the new addition to their ranks. The boy stood straight and tall, managing to look innocent, but formidable; confident, yet modest. It was an outrageous combination, but this boy managed to pull it off.

Messy ebony locks curled around his delicate jaw-line and straight bangs were pushed absentmindedly to the side. His lips were pulled into a nervous half-smile and green eyes suddenly sharpened, for what reason everyone in the room didn't know.

All they knew was that it sent a shiver down their spine and that it left as quick as it came. The only one who gave it a second thought was the one and only Albus Dumbledore. Before all their staring could be considered creepy by social norms Molly Weasley exclaimed,

"Oh Julian! How wonderful to see you. I didn't think you'd be up for another hour at least." His smile brightened by a few notches and he glided over to sit beside Dumbledore.

"Well, knowing that your, most likely, wonderful cooking was waiting for me and how you were so nice about waking me, made me not want to keep you waiting. I knew that if you came it must be something important." Mrs. Weasley blushed again and put a napkin in Julian's lap.

"Oh, you and your compliments! I swear, you must have everyone in the palm of your hand back home. Now tuck in! Just like Ron you are much too skinny. I expect you to eat at least two helpings!" Julian laughed and took her fussing with neither an irritable groan nor a red face, like most teenagers would.

"Thank you very much Mrs. Weasley. I can't express how much your's, and everyone else's, hospitality means to me. I realize that I must be quite a burden so I was planning on heading out after breakfast. I wouldn't want to overstay my welcome and all." Julian bit his lip lightly and took a quick bite out of his pancakes and scanned the room with bright, intelligent eyes. Not that anyone noticed.

"Oh deary! You aren't a burden at all. Besides, you're helping the Order so you're as welcome as anyone." Julian glanced back over at the mother Weasley and sent another bashful smile her way.

However, inside he just kept screaming and thinking about how wonderful it would be to cut off her head and see how bland and dull her "red" hair would look compared to the magnificent crimson that would spurt from her throat. Yes, that picture would be  _wonderful_ to make into a reality. Nothing showed in his eyes though, like it would with most. Just the slightest dilating of his pupils could be seen if you were close enough.

"Thanks Mrs. Weasley. I truly do appreciate it. However, I can't help but think this isn't your home, what with the feel of old dark magic and dead house elf heads lining the hallway. As it is, I'm staying within someone else's home, so I would like to share my appreciation with them."

Molly blushed  _again,_ but this time out of embarrassment and nodded towards the man wolfing down a stack of blueberry pancakes. He looked up slowly, feeling the weight of everyone's gaze at the table and mumbled,

"Yes, I'm the  _proud_ owner of Grimmauld place. And you're not a burden at all. Merlin knows how many people are already staying here, and they don't even show me their gratitude!" Black pointedly looked towards his best mate and James shoved him lightly.

"Shut it Sirius. Like you even notice us staying here. Besides, with Molly and Lily here you get to experience a clean house  _and_ great cooking for once in your miserable life." Sirius appeared to contemplate his words for a moment and nodded slightly.

"True, very true. Doesn't mean you shouldn't say 'Thank you, my best mate who just  _happens_ to be an unnaturally and  _ruggedly_ handsome man. By the way, you're the best.' Every morning." James laughed loudly and finished off a strip of bacon.

"Sure, like you need someone to increase the size of your ego. I'm afraid if I ever said that seriously you wouldn't be able to fit through the door." Black pouted, but there was still amusement shining in his dark blue eyes. Julian smiled slightly and inclined his head towards Sirius.

"Be that as it may, I still appreciate your hospitality. Also, I'm sure I owe my life to you and your friend. You both have the look of aurors to you." They both jolted, surprised that the boy could have guessed.

"How did you know? I'm sure Sirius and I aren't quite  _that_ famous quite yet." Julian just smiled mysteriously and crossed his arms.

"Yes, but you'd be surprised by what a face shows when you truly look. Now, I know who the great Lord Dumbledore is and of course I recognize the beautiful Mrs. Weasley, but I can't say I know any of you." James shook his head and smiled bashfully.

"Of course, sorry. I'm James Potter, this is my friend Sirius Black, and beside me is my lovely wife Lily. Across from me is Remus Lupin, he teaches at Hogwarts, and over there is Molly's son Ron and my son Jason, but I'm sure you've heard of him. Molly has a few more children, who I'm sure you'll meet, and my son has a friend named Hermione Granger who is also staying here." Julian nodded and smiled at each person as they were introduced.

"It's a pleasure to meet all of you. Now, Lord Dum-"

"Why do you call Professor Dumbledore that? And how come you didn't recognize me straight off?" Jason exclaimed. Julian's stare grew a bit colder and he turned his head from where it had been on Dumbledore to the so-called  _Chosen One._

"I would appreciate it if I wasn't interrupted Mr. Potter. I call your Headmaster Lord Dumbledore because that's what he is. A  _Lord._ He has been chosen by Magic to fight for the Light. As such he deserves my utmost respect and that includes calling him by his title. I'm surprised none of you do that. They do it for the Dark Lord. Concerning your second question, why do you think I  _didn't_ recognize you?"

Julian cocked his head, previous iciness gone. Like he would allow his emotions to get away from him in the presence of a  _child._ Please. Jason stumbled for a bit, but eventually chewed out,

"Because you said you only knew Mrs. Weasley and Professor Dumbledore! I happen to be the Chosen One ya know." He sneered slightly in the direction of the pretty boy that practically  _oozed_ power. He didn't think he had ever done that before, and it made him oddly jealous. Like he had anything to be jealous of though! He was the  _Chosen One!_ No one could compete with that.

"Yes, I  _know_. I just thought you would enjoy introducing yourself for once, or I guess having your father do it. I thought it to be rude to ask for everyone's name, but yours, even if I had never met you in person before. Does that satisfy you Mr. Potter?" Julian leaned his head forward, his eyebrows slightly turned to show a fraction of his annoyance.

_Careful Julian. Make sure to show_ _**just** _ _the right amount of emotion. Never too much and_ _**definitely** _ _never too little._

Jason's mouth opened in an unattractive "o" and he smiled sheepishly.

"Of course, sorry. No one...no one's ever done that for me before." Julian nodded his head and all traces of irritability were gone in a flash and he grinned easily at the boy, knowing he was afraid he had actually made Julian angry. Like the boy could even  _dream_ of provoking anything genuine besides a bit of disgust and the overall disdain he held for almost everyone on the planet.

"No worries. Now, as brilliant as your cooking is Mrs. Weasley, I must be on my way. I have an appointment at 9:30 and I always try my best not to be late." Weasley yet again managed to blush from a single compliment and patted Julian on the arm in a way he was sure she thought would make his little orphan heart glow with appreciation.

"Not to worry deary. Lunch will be waiting for you when you come back." Unlike Molly and the kids, the two aurors and Dumbledore were curious as to what the boy was up to.

"What appointment would that be Mr. LaFaye?" Dumbledore asked. Julian turned and used his wand to summon his bag and mentally prepared to contact his 'Lord'.

"Just sorting out contracts and whatnot. Since I'll be spending most of my time with all of you or with my studies, I probably won't have the time to deal with the contracts I already have lined up. I just need to go and tell them I won't be available for the next few months. Now, I should be back a little after 1:00. At that point you can continue asking me questions to your heart's content. Toodles."

With a wave and a cocky smirk sent at both ladies in the room Julian apparated out of there to the Dark Lord's manor.

* * *

"Ahhh." Julian audibly breathed out, gradually losing his LaFaye persona and slipping on the mask closest to his real self. Here, he was a high-ranking officer in the Dark Lord's Inner Circle, which basically meant he could do whatever the hell he wanted and no one could say a word about it to him or anyone else, on threat of torture and/or death of course.

He slipped a hand easily through tousled curls and gradually straighten them out so he looked more professional and adorned a thick dark navy blue robe that went to his knees. He buttoned up one of the middle clips and easily made his way over to Lord Voldemort's throne room. While he personally thought it all a bit of an unnecessary show of dominance, he also knew he wouldn't mind having a group of the most powerful witches and wizards living kneeling at his feet while taking all the curses he uttered at them with a choked out, "Thank you my Lord." that he knew they  _actually meant._

Yes, that would definitely give him chills and a feeling of pleasure that might just show in his groin if he was feeling sadistic enough that day. Not that he could produce an erection unless he actually  _allowed_ his body to, but it wouldn't hurt for him to have servants that feared him, yet respected and loved him so much that they would deal with his crap.

Yes, Julian wouldn't mind that at  _all._

These were the thoughts that flew through his mind as he made his way to a, as he didn't doubt, elegantly furnished room which just happened to have snakes for handles on large doors made from a dark wood he couldn't quite place. Either way, he knew it was old and had only just began filling with leftover dark magic for no more than 6 years.

You see, in any kind of building that you perform magic often in, the walls and doors often fill up with leftover magic. This magic helps make the building stronger and the wards, if they have any, even more powerful. That's why Hogwarts was known to be so impenetrable and how most students, even those who had no affinity for feeling and/or seeing magic could practically  _taste_ the magic in the place.

_Hmm, I wonder why he didn't just use Malfoy Manor once he revived himself? And if this isn't some ancient Pureblood Manor, what great significance could it hold for a Dark Lord to even consider living in it?_

Julian knew his questions wouldn't produce answers if he tried to ask the Dark Lord, but the, if you could even call him as such, man never said he couldn't "socialize" with his followers. Right before he entered LaFaye used his magic to pinpoint how many magical auras were within the room and was nearly blown away by the Dark Lord's.

Compared to him, all others were just tiny balls of black, sometimes grey, light. A great comparison would be Pluto to the Sun. Not to mention how cold, yet comforting, said magic was. He could see many people being driven to groveling in the face of such power and could also see others being drawn to it because of the way it induced submissiveness in the most powerful of the Pureblood circle.

In him, all he felt was the magic playing with his own, as if challenging him to a game of some sorts, and as his own magic eagerly responded positively he could feel it enriching him and making him more powerful than before. Not that any of his pleasurable feelings showed on his face. However, he did let himself indulge in the wonderful feeling and could tell Lord Voldemort felt the same way.

He cut it off soon after though; no use in becoming addicted to such sensations, and opened the doors, already knowing who exactly would be present. Or at least, he knew of the ones that would be important to take note of.

Only the Inner Circle and about 15 of the less important Death Eaters were present, and Julian made sure to take note of their magical signatures and faces so he could later put a name to them. He already knew of all of the Inner Circle members though. A few of them hadn't been present at his invitation to the Dark, but all of them were too famous to not have any clue who they were by face alone.

Altogether, the Dark Lord had put together a group of thirteen of his finest and Julian couldn't help but mentally applaud him for his daring. Besides seven, of course, thirteen was the most magically powerful number, but it was also the most unlucky. However, that was only true if you payed attention to superstition, but Julian had always been one to be cautious beyond the norm. Even if it was uncalled for.

He quickly took note of every person in his Inner Circle and wasn't disappointed in the least. Present were Lucius Malfoy, the perfect politician and probably the cleverest snake Julian had yet to meet. Bellatrix Lestrange and the two Lestrange brothers, who were all three known for their  _creativity_ in torture and the most appalling of dark magics, like blood magic.

Beside them was Barty Crouch Jr., son of the infamously Light Barty Crouch. Julian couldn't help but giggle internally at the  _irony_ of that. Next was, of course, the Carrows, who were well-known for their intense hatred of all things muggle, which was surprising because almost all Pureblood families had a weirdly obsessive hatred of all things non-magic, and then there were the Crabbe and Goyle men, who were basically just bodyguards for the Malfoy family.

They were half troll though, so they packed a great punch and had pretty much secured the Dark every troll's loyalty in Britain. There was Theodore Nott senior, who Julian was pretty sure went to school with the Dark Lord when he was younger, and his son, but he wasn't quite in the Inner Circle yet.

_How embarrassing._ He snickered internally.

Then there was Lord Voldemort's only half-breed member, who was also probably one of the most well known and feared; Fenrir Greyback. Just like Bellatrix and Lucius, Julian had always held a strange sort of respect for him and a healthy dose of wariness. While he knew he could easily best the werewolf, that  _man_ was also the rapist and torturer/killer of hundreds upon hundreds of children his age or younger.

However, unlike most, it made him want to battle and fight  _with_ the beast and man so much it  _hurt._ He could just imagine the screams they could produce together. Especially with the help of the mighty Bellatrix Lestrange, who he imagined he might actually come to like in the detached way only he could.

Lastly, there was the man he had extremely high hopes for, the one and only Severus Snape. He seemed to be very similar to Lucius Malfoy, meaning he was more of a thinker than a fighter, but he also had the added brilliance that was his Potion Making.

He knew that Severus's help during the war would be invaluable and he could also tell the man would be an interesting and stimulating conversationalist. There really weren't enough genuinely intelligent people out there, so when you found them it was disappointing to have to kill them. Especially over something so silly as which side they were on. If they were objective and intelligent, which was a pair even  _harder_ to find than just someone smart, then they should be on Julian's side anyways.

He had been nothing if not objective in his choices. While it  _had_ been hard to cut muggles a bit of slack after his childhood, he  _had._ Not all muggles were stupid and a waste of space. Just look at Albert Einstein or even Steven Hawking. Both were immensely intelligent, undoubtedly more than himself, yet they were muggles. However, that didn't mean the magical world didn't need to create a stronger barrier between the muggle world and theirs.

_Because_ of their intellect, the need to hide from them or take them by surprise sooner rather than later was even more necessary. If wizards were planning on taking over, they needed to do it now,  _before_ they discovered wizards and attacked them and/or before they grew even more powerful.

It still surprised Julian so much that most wizards had no idea what kind of abilities the muggles had. To be honest, the thought of an atomic bomb being dropped on Wizarding Britain bothered him a bit. And it was practically  _impossible_ to bother him. Anyway,  _something_ needed to be done, and that was the exact reason why Julian had joined the Dark.

Yes, he would have probably regretted not being on the fighting side of the wizards and witches who shot down their enemies with the most dark and painful curses imaginable without one guilty thought passing through their minds if he had joined the Light, but if he had wholeheartedly disagreed with all of Lord Voldemort's ideals and plans for the future, he wouldn't have joined them.

However, he  _did_ agree with him, for the most part, so he was prepared to beat the Light down until they were on the ground, crying and begging for mercy, and then he would take his gun and shoot them mercilessly in the face, one by one. Starting with their  _Savior._

As he opened the large doors with a small push of his magic, Julian entered the room in the middle of the Dark Lord's speech. He honestly didn't know how he managed to always interrupt people in the middle of speeches, or did he?

He slowly bowed, he would never grovel, and gave a cheeky grin to the version of the Dark Lord he preferred. While on the battlefield, he would change his visage to one of a snake, to promote the fear of him and the "dark arts". However, at the moment, he was in the true form of a Dark Lord, which was basically that of a sexy, yet undeniably powerful, man.

Dark Lords were known for their cunning, power, and manipulation skills. One thing that goes hand in hand with manipulation is a pretty face, and did the Dark Lord have a nice one. Sharp cheekbones that were almost as high as his own, and a strong jaw gave him an elegant, yet manly look. A straight, sharp nose was purely aristocratic and thin lips seemed to be pulled into a permanent smirk. Dark brown hair was straight and neatly styled to that of a noble, as it should be. But, just like Julian, the main attraction were his eyes.

Smoldering crimson orbs adorned by smoky lashes would make just about anyone think twice about trying to best the owner of them. Not only was their color disturbing, yet attractive, intelligence and power made them burn all the brighter. Those were the eyes of a Dark Lord all right.

Most would call Voldemort sporting a scary and insane-looking visage idiotic because "Wasn't the Dark side trying to promote how the Ministry was wrong about banning Dark magic even though it wasn't that bad?" While this was a fair point, it was irrelevant while they were in the middle of war.

Dark Magic wasn't  _bad._ No magic was good or bad, it all just depended upon how you used it. While, yes, most Dark spells seem to only have an "evil" use for them, if you haven't given up on your morals yet, you just don't use those nasty spells and rituals. Just the same as "good" people don't use  _Wingardium Leviosa_ to slam people into walls and bash their brains out, no matter how annoying they get.

However, the biggest difference between Light and Dark magic is not that one is inherently  _evil,_ but that Dark magic is much harder to control and much easier to become addicted to. To be a Dark wizard you have to have a  _lot_ of self control, which most Light wizards just don't have. Also, most of the time, you have to have a natural talent for it, which means that if you try to learn it and you  _don't_ have that, there's a great chance you'll go insane and start randomly killing people.

Every wizard can pretty much do Light and Neutral magic. At least before your core changes that is. As most know, if your core is mostly Dark it is harder to perform Light magic, but most of the time there's always an alternative Dark spell to whatever the Light has so it doesn't really matter.

Anyways, the reason why it didn't matter at the time whether Lord Voldemort helped prove to the public that Dark magic was actually not completely evil or not, was because they had already went through that and it didn't work. During the 50's and 60's Lord Voldemort and his followers, who had still been called the Knights of Walpurgis, had done a lot to help people understand that no magic should be restricted and that the prejudice against the Dark was unwarranted.

While this was all true, not many had listened so the Dark Lord had had to move onto other means. That means taking over Britain and forcing things he, and many others, knew to be right as law. So, that meant it didn't really matter what people thought because soon enough Lord Voldemort would control all of them, and Julian would make sure to take a piece of that power for himself.

At Julian's cocky smirk, most of the Death Eaters blanched and others looked gleeful at the chance to watch the arrogant and handsome youth scream out of those devilish lips. However, nothing of the sort happened. The Dark Lord slowly smirked back and sent a wave of dark magic to greet his favorite ally. Julian accepted it with a gradually widening smirk and sent his own wave back and the Dark Lord had to forcibly  _not_ shiver.

He still wasn't used to feeling such power from anyone, let alone one so young. Dark, red eyes bore into green emeralds and he spoke, a dark baritone that managed to echo throughout the whole room, regardless of how softly he said it.

"Hello Montresor. I trust you have successfully fooled Dumbledore and his pets?"

As Julian walked over and materialized a dark green chair with the Dark Mark etched into the wood, which he knew would impress Lord Voldemort, beside Bellatrix, he laughed gleefully.

"Of  _course_ I did my Lord. How could you ever believe anything else?" As the boy glided over and materialized the chair he couldn't help but marvel at the display of power from someone so young.

It was one thing to conjure a chair, and yes that was  _conjure_ not transfigure, with that much detail, but it was a whole other thing to do it wandlessly. All of it was  _extremely_ curious and he intended to figure out the limits of this youth's power quickly. He was reminding him of his... _younger_ self far too much to be comfortable with.

"As I expected. But what kinds of questions have you been asked and how did you manage to fool Dumbledore? While I find it unsurprising the old fool's minions haven't caught on to anything, I have no doubts he has asked you much. How did you manage to divert his attention from your  _past_ occupation and allow you so close to all his plans?"

Julian leaned back and spread out, not in the least leery of being in the presence of probably the most powerful wizard in the world, if not one of the most in all time.  _Avada Kedavra_ green eyes glowed with malicious delight and Bellatrix wanted to cackle at how much of herself she saw in the boy.

"It was easy enough to fool them. I have decided to use my 'Julian LaFaye' alias, just so you and your Inner Circle members know, and it's one that I've mastered and used on many occasions. I merely explained that I was an orphan and had had no other way of making a living, besides whoring myself I suppose. Most of my contracts had been doing  _naughty_ things anyway, so of  _course_ they had it coming. Besides my Lord, who could resist this face?" Julian's lips stretched obscenely wide and a few chuckles escaped him.

"I honestly can't wait for when I betray them all." he sighed dreamily, dark eyes staring at nothing. "The looks on their faces...well, the look of a betrayed individual is one of the sweetest in existence, as I'm sure you know, my Lord."

Julian allowed himself to grin manically at the Dark Lord, and let a tiny sliver of his bloodlust shine through. Voldemort's own irises dilated a bit at the picture his young assassin was making. He knew how a look of betrayal looked  _all_ too well. Before either could sink into memories of their own conquests, one of the Death Eaters  _rudely_ interrupted.

A large door sounded as it closed, unlike with Julian who had made his magic silence the  _Boom!_ it created when shutting. In front of those doors now stood a shivering and hunched over Peter Pettigrew. "M-my Lord. I've b-b-brought you the p-papers you asked for earlier." He gulped.

Voldemort leaned forward, dark rubies still shining with bloodlust and sadistic thoughts, but before he could say a word to his most cowardly and worthless Death Eater, Montresor interrupted.

Before anyone could so much as gasp in surprise the lithe assassin had already made his way over to the shivering form of Pettigrew and had taken to studying his face with intense green eyes, swirling with something no one in the room could distinguish. He bent over and lightly petted the rat's stubbly cheek and cocked his head slightly.

"Peter Pettigrew…" Montresor whispered in disbelief. "You are the one who betrayed the Potter's, yes?"

The man, if you could call him that, looked up into the boy who practically shone in the room filled with darkness. He couldn't help but feel the need to  _trust_ him.

"Yes. I'm he."

Suddenly the boy's whole demeanor changed. Replaced with calm disbelief now showed the insanity from within and surprisingly,  _anger._ But only the Dark Lord managed to catch it before it disappeared and was swallowed up by a look he often times saw on his Bella. His little assassin's next words weren't a surprise in the least judging by the expression on his face.

"May I have him my Lord? I promise I'll give you a good show before I've finished him." Those pleading green eyes and light pink pouting lips could not be ignored by any man, not even the Dark Lord, and he lightly nodded his head in consent, honestly curious as to what the boy would do.  _A good way to learn his spell repertoire as well._

He had heard stories of his ally's  _skills_ when it came to torture and murder, but he had wanted to see a performance in real life as soon as he had met him. Lord Voldemort also knew this would help any members of his Inner Circle who hadn't been present during the boy's wonderful performance while at the  _Ripper's Cauldron_ accept the boy as someone of higher ranking than them.

He had been worried Greyback might try to attack the boy and get killed or Severus may have questioned the boy of his power and/or belittled him because of his age and end up getting butchered as well. While he honestly didn't care about any of his Death Eaters, they were both extremely useful along with others and he had no use in them dead.

Montresor interrupted his thoughts as he dragged Wormtail along with a dark rope of pure magic by the neck and released him in between his followers and him. Voldemort watched in rapt interest as his boy took the rat by the neck, with  _more_ wandless magic, and lifted him into the air. The assassin took his time walking around his prey in a predatory fashion that he couldn't help but relate to himself at that age.

Eyes burned with insane fire, but other than that no other expression was shone on the boy's face. Many of the Death Eater's present, including the Inner Circle, shivered openly at the look and feel of the boy. Whether in arousal or fear, that remained to be seen. As Wormtail's face started to become blue Montresor reluctantly released him, but soon after grabbed onto the rat's face and cut into it, leaving four deep lines from cheek to neck.

With a wave of his hand Montresor summoned a bottle of water that was made up of over three quaters of salt and "cleaned" the wound. As he did it Wormtail released the most  _beautiful_ of screams. Something both Montresor and Voldemort took note of and enjoyed gleefully.

After another few hours of slow torture, which had included skinning both of the man's feet, ripping out each of his nails, cutting along his chest and whatnot with his own hands, and of  _course_ washing each wound with a bit of salt water since no one, especially Montresor, wanted his favorite  _uncle_ to get infected, he finally stopped for a moment.

At some point the man had finally stopped screaming and had just taken to whimpering pleas to just  _stop_ and to finish him off. Finally, the man just couldn't take it anymore and begged,

"Please! Just  _kill me._ I can't take it anymore." And he sobbed and sobbed, but all Montresor did was  _laugh._

He, at first, just giggled a bit, but soon enough it turned into full out peals of crazy glee, and a look that seemed to come right out of any sane person's nightmares. But it was beautiful all the same.

"You want to die do you  _Wormtail?_ You want it to all stop? Huh? What about when I wanted it to? What about  _then?!"_ he screeched, and all innocence and light humor that had still been on his face, little there had been, abruptly disappeared and what was left was something that would most likely haunt the nightmares of many of the Death Eaters present.

Montresor leaned down and sniffed his prey's neck, loving the utter  _fear_ the man held for him. For what he could do with him. For what he had  _done_ to him and still could. Right now he was  _God._ Right now, he could do whatever he wanted with this man, everything that had been done to  _him._

But he wouldn't.

Not when the man had said please. He still had  _morals_ after all. Right? Montresor grinned unknowingly at his thoughts, and pushed a bloody hand through his face and hair, just  _loving_ the feel and smell and  _taste_ that beautiful crimson held.

All the blood and fear and dark magic littering the air made him want to scream and wank and just kill everyone in the room. And he fed on it. He fed on how  _powerful_ he felt right now and all he wanted to do was kill the rat before him and throw a few of his favorite dark spells at the many warm bodies that would surely scream loudly and cause his pleasure to skyrocket to unimaginable amounts.

He wanted to watch the light leave the man's eyes and he wanted Peter Pettigrew to be  _grateful_ when he finally did it. He wanted Wormtail to  _want. It._ And want it he would.

The insanity never left his expression, even when he whispered soft words into Wormtail's ear. Words that told him that everything would be alright, that by suffering he had repented for his sins, that who he really was wasn't Montresor, but the one and only Harry Potter.

Wormtail's murky brown eyes brightened in understanding and for once, he didn't feel the heavy burden of guilt that constantly flooded him, day and night. The guilt he had felt for over a decade for betraying his best friends because he was  _afraid._

Afraid of the death he would surely be gifted with today. Guilty for having almost done the unforgivable,  _killing_ those who had trusted him with their lives. And finally, he felt the guilt for damning Harry Potter to a life without his parents, a guilt he hadn't even known he felt, was lifted off his shoulders and forced into a distant memory by the man he had thought would make his death miserable. In fact, it was the best death he could have ever hoped for.

A death without fear.

For once it was all okay, and it was because of this boy. They shared one final look and Peter whispered, "Thank you."

And all at once the hate and bitterness that Pettigrew's betrayal had left in his heart gave way and Montresor gave a heartbreakingly sweet smile to Peter and for once he didn't cower in fear of torture or death. For once, he took it all with a smile on his face and a grateful and thankful look in his eye.

And finally, the boy once known as Harry Potter, now Montresor, took Peter's throat into his mouth and ripped it out with pearly white teeth. Blood and gore flew everywhere, but in the midst of it all Peter didn't scream, not that he could anymore.

In that moment he proved to all that he had  _truly_ been a Gryffindor. That he deserved the title, and Montresor couldn't help the sliver of respect that formed for Peter Pettigrew. With one last spray of blood that signaled Peter's final breath, Montresor whispered,

"Good night and may you _finally_ rest in peace."

And he died with a smile on his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS: Slight main character death, gore, torture, sadistic thoughts, etc. Also, I was super into Sherlock when I wrote this chapter so Harry is slightly Sherlock-y. :D And sorry about a super hot Dark Lord.---wait, no I'M NOT HAHAHA. I can't resist. Ever. 
> 
> I want to make one other comment though...because I'm afraid people will misunderstand. While you haven't read Harry's backstory, you HAVE read Lily's memory of when Harry disappeared, and Peter was not at fault for Harry being taken from his parents AT ALL. Harry just made him THINK he was guilty, and Harry's crazy enough to blame Peter for his past as well. Anyway, there. :D 
> 
> Another thing! I want alleviate any fears or confusion. One, if the Dark Lord seems out of character, know that in my opinion, Tom Riddle was never as crazy or hateful as Voldemort. This Voldemort was smarter than the original and realized you probably shouldn't split your soul, which is YOU, so much. So, let's assume he just made one. A backup if his body ever died. Then, he could just make another when he combined with his other horcrux if he ever got hurt. And in my opinion, the horcruxes made Voldemort crazy and stupid in the books, so that's why he's a bit more chill here. Also, Voldemort is allowing Julian to act like that because, for one, he reminds him of himself, and also because Julian is an ally. He's not a Death Eater, he's being paid and whatnot. You'll see that Julian really isn't that special to Voldemort right now when I show some of his other allies. I just didn't want you to think I was making the dear Dark Lord too OOC. 
> 
> Okay there. :D Hope you enjoyed it and please leave your thoughts and feeling in a review below! :)


	10. Courting the Enemy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this one took so long! Been focused on other stuff, and today I began rewriting one of my other stories. I've got three chapters...you should check it out! (Blatant advertising...you sink so LOW) Anyway, there are warnings at the bottom. But if you go check...your probably going to see what I'm warning about ANYway...eh. YOUR DECISION. Anyway, enjoy and let me hear your thoughts in a comment!

_"Ale: Are you manipulating me again?_

_T.C.: Try not to fall for it. I dare you."_

_― Steve Kluger_

* * *

Snape wasn't sure what to think.

Last night, after his talk with Julian, he had felt confident in his joining with the boy. What with his charisma, promises that he  _prayed_ weren't empty, and his speech of his wonderful return to the Dark, it had seemed like the perfect thing to pull him out of the funk he had suffered through for the past 16 years. Ever since he had told the Dark Lord of the prophecy and had almost gotten his first love killed, he had felt so much guilt that he had easily joined the Light, all the while knowing that he would never be happy there.

So Julian's proposition had seemed like the most obvious and perfect choice for him. Merlin knew all this spying and stress from playing on no team but his own was beginning to kill him. Even if Julian hadn't given him a choice, he knew he would have slipped up in the next few years or so. It had only been a matter of time, especially since he hadn't even  _known_ what he was fighting for anymore.

But now, after that... _charming_ display, he wasn't sure what to think. The last few minutes of the rat's torture hadn't been filled with screams like the past few hours. Instead, by the end, Pettigrew actually seemed  _happy._ And that thought alone unwillingly sent chills down his spine. It had been a rather intense show, but mostly it was just  _Julian_ that scared the hell out of him, not the sight of a tortured and dead body.

And yes, that boy  _did_ scare him. For good reason too.

Not enough to actually bring any kind of emotion to his face, no, he had been through an entire war and an abusive childhood, he could take  _this,_ but it didn't mean Snape was immune to his heart pumping and adrenaline racing, a sure sign his fight-or-flight instincts were kicking in, meaning he was actually  _afraid._ He noticed all of this with a keen interest however. Unlike most men his age, he actually enjoyed intense emotions, like fear. If only because he felt them so rarely. After everything he had been through...that sharp feeling in your gut, the breathing heavily, not from physical exertion, but exertion of your emotions forcibly, and the need to just  _run_ , to get anywhere from there, all of it was kind of enjoyable to him now.

It had truly been too long since he felt something that couldn't be easily tucked away behind strong Occlumency walls. So as he watched Julian, the seemingly innocent and sweetly intelligent boy with an angelic face, step up gracefully with such dilated pupils he could  _see them from here_ , and then gently trace one long, slender finger across his brow and suck the blood he had acquired from the act, he allowed the fear that coursed through him, the fear of prey being faced with an incredibly powerful predator, simply race through his veins, and enjoyed it; not once regretting his choice to join with Mr. Julian LaFaye.

* * *

_Ah. How wonderful._ Harry sighed.

The feel of blood on his face and hands gave him a feeling reminiscent of a mother's warm hug. In the face of death and his cool embrace, Julian felt completely at home.

He licked Peter's still warm neck a few times, reveling in the taste of that crimson goodness, but eventually quit, not wanting to damage himself by absorbing too much iron. It just wasn't  _good_  for you. As he straightened himself from his previous position of looming over one of his betrayer's now soulless and cold body, he took a long look around the room. The whole place was rather colorless, besides his own navy cloak, both his and the Dark Lord's bright eyes, and of course, the tempting blood that was inching its way,  _slowly,_  to the front line of Death Eater's who kneeled on the ground.

Harry slowly licked his lips, not noticing the way the Dark Lord leered at his bloody face. He couldn't resist taking one of his fingers and stripping away some of the delicious blood from his forehead, not wishing to waste any of it. Usually, his kills were just shoot, and leave. Most of the time, Julian didn't get a chance to properly  _enjoy_ it. This was one of those times he could, and he would  _definitely_ savor it for weeks.

He wandlessly cut off one of Pettigrew's fingers, in memory of his past attempt at escaping the authorities when he was found to be the betrayer of the Potter's, and sent it back to his home. Any murder that he fulfilled so  _personally_ , well, he had to keep a souvenir. It just didn't feel  _right_ if he didn't. As he licked his finger clean and moaned at the taste, Julian took his seat once again; acting as if nothing had happened. He cleaned up the mess that was once Peter without regret; he had gotten his fun from the torture and kill, so he no longer cared. He didn't clean himself though, he didn't quite want to be rid of the intensely enjoyable feeling of blood yet. Anything else: dirt, slime, sweat, was considered to be unclean in his book, but blood was  _pure;_ it made him even cleaner than he was before. So he soaked in the glorious red liquid and made sure to run his hands through his black curls a few times. He wanted it _everywhere._ Once he got comfortable again, he shot a curious look at the Dark Lord.

_Why isn't he talking yet? Surely once I finished torturing and killing Peter he would just ignore me and continue with his speech. If I missed something important it would have been my fault for not paying attention._

While blazing red eyes focused on his own cool green pair, he raised one slim eyebrow, waiting for the Lord to proceed. Just before the silence became uncomfortable Voldemort whispered, "Thank you ever so for that display Montresor. I trust you'll treat myself and my Death Eaters to it again some day soon." Said man instantly smirked smugly at Lord Voldemort's words.

_So the whole time he was just dazed with how I committed that murder and torture. I didn't know he was so easily distracted; wasn't even my best work. Someone needs to get out more and have some fun of his own._ However, all the young assassin did was continue to smirk and bow his head in acceptance, head cocked slightly to the side.

"Of  _course_ my Lord. I wouldn't dream of not gifting you with entertainment again as soon as possible. Merely give me a time, date, and of course, a _playmate."_ That last word was hissed quietly, but heard clearly by everyone in the room. Cool emeralds now lit with a fire similar to the Dark Lord's. In that moment, both thought of what havoc they could bring if they fought as one, and both couldn't help the shiver of pleasure that rushed down their spines at the idea.

* * *

Hermione Granger had always viewed herself as more of an asexual being. Meaning, the only thing that  _truly_ attracted her were books and the powerful knowledge that lay within them. The fact that many girls in her dorm room would stay up for  _hours_ gossiping about the many males in Hogwarts, was simply baffling to her. She'd rather face a jealous and/or pissed off Ron any day rather than  _that_ unique hell, thank you very much. However, the moment she saw the perfect face of Julian LaFaye, she could feel the need to gush over a boy like a "normal" teenage girl for the first time.

The tall, but lithely built boy looked even more handsome than Da Vinci's idea of physical perfection. With devilish lips, slightly curved eyebrows, high cheekbones, a sharp, but feminine jawline, perfectly pale, creamy skin, and the most vivid color of green she had ever seen encompassing his wide, innocent eyes, she could, for once, understand where all those bubble-headed girls were coming from. However, Hermione wasn't entirely shallow; the main reason why she was entranced was not for the green of those irises, but of the intelligence that made them glow and brighten in the lightly lit room.

His politeness to her and her friends was also a breathe of fresh air. Did no one in Gryffindor have  _manners?_ Said boy-no  _man_ , interrupted her thoughts of him with a compassionate tap of the hand and a pair of confused emeralds that no person, let alone a fifteen year old girl, could resist.

"Are you quite alright Hermione? I didn't mean to bore you with my escapades to China. You just wouldn't  _believe_ how many terrible things exist there. Young girls are still chucked away in favor of young boys, to carry on the family name of course, and children are still allowed to work in barely inhabitable factories. However, that's only the muggle side of it. The  _Wizarding_ World, well, I don't even know where to start." And with that, Julian manipulated the only person under 17 in the Order who posed a single threat to him.

Yet again, it was almost too easy. After his fun-filled time at Lord Voldemort's manor, he had quickly apparated out, but not before the first act of physical contact happened between the two. Just before he was going to spin around, the Dark Lord caught his shoulder, and both immediately shut out the rest of the world and focused on the feeling that emanated from that single tough. Julian had thought their magic playing and snuggling up together had felt good, but it was  _nothing_ compared to this.

From where the cold, white fingers of Lord Voldemort resided, intense waves of pleasure could be felt racing through his entire body and to his core. Julian moaned for a second before he got control over himself; that's how  _good_ it felt. Both pulled away at the same time, having had enough time to bask in the feeling, but realizing the time for fun was over. Now, it was time to analyze.

"Interesting…" Voldemort paused, not sure what else to say. He still wasn't quite familiar with how his little assassin was, so he was wary of how the boy would react. Even if it had felt  _very_ good, he didn't want the child to think there was anything between them. Luckily, he had nothing to fear.

"Yes, definitely. I had noticed that our magic responded powerfully to each other before this, but I just assumed it was because you are the  _Dark Lord._  I suppose it's only natural for touch to act as a better conductor than the air. Did you ever feel such things with Lord Dumbledore? He is much stronger than me, but it may be that it's because of both of our extremely dark magic, along with the large and powerful cores we both have, that caused our magic to react to each other this way."

Voldemort paused and leaned against the wall, this new mystery intriguing him immensely. He had  _never_ had this type of reaction to anybody. He was also happy to see the person who shared this mystery with him was logical and intelligent, meaning someone who would look at this objectively, not emotionally.

"Definitely the second, if either. However, I've met many powerful dark wizards and I've never had this type of reaction to them. Perhaps our cores are just closely aligned." Julian didn't look up, but nodded slightly in acknowledgement.

"I see; a reasonable explanation, but I believe it to be a bit more complicated than just that. This will take further research and experimentation my Lord. I trust we can both look for information on our own?" The brat smirked cheekily, but surprisingly Lord Voldemort felt no need, or want, to hex the child. He was only slightly amused and fascinated.

"Yes, we can. Do not let this get in the way of  _your_  mission though. Consider this as more of an  _extracurricular_ activity, yes?" Now both grinned cheekily, but neither minded. At the moment, they weren't Lord and minion, or even a wealthy man and an immoral assassin; they were merely two intelligent people having a friendly exchange.

"Of  _course_ my Lord. I wouldn't  _dream_ of it."

However, I digress.

_Yes, almost too easy._ The men and woman in the Order, or those that lived within the walls of Black Manor, were sadly easily manipulated. Molly had been under his thumb right from the beginning and soon after her husband had been as well; with the help of a few stories about the many muggle inventions across the planet and different muggle customs. After them came the Granger muggleborn, who had been surprisingly intelligent, but easily influenced by his good looks, making her worthless.

He hadn't yet met all the Weasley children, only Ronald and the twins, but he had been pleasantly surprised by the two identical redheads. Not only were they quite amusing, they also didn't seem to share the same prejudices as the rest of their family, and seemed to suspect him of not being as innocent as he appeared as well. However, that hadn't turned them away from him. In fact, they seemed to only become more fascinated in him and the mystery surrounding him, and Julian was a little excited to see if the two intelligent, older boys would come join his cause.

While he would have no problem with killing them off like the others if they chose not to join him, but like with Snape, he took no joy from spilling the blood of those who were actually intelligent and worth saving. They were just so  _rare._

However, he had been having a bit of trouble with the other two members of the Golden Trio, as he had learned they were called, because of their jealousy towards him. He wasn't too worried though. Soon enough, Jason would fall just like Hermione, either from his charms or from Granger's nagging, and he honestly didn't give two shits about the youngest male Weasley. It didn't take a psychologist to understand the boy's uncomplicated personality.

He had always felt the need to be as great, or better, than each of his older siblings, therefore developing a harsh and childish jealousy for any who stole, or threatened to steal, what he thought to be his "rightful" thunder. And being best friends with both the bright mudblood and  _Chosen_ One gave him that uniqueness he so craved for within his home and family. He most likely thought that Julian would try to take his place, but soon he wouldn't feel the need to fear, not that he ever had. It wasn't like he would even spend enough time with the idiots to actually form a strong bond, thank  _Merlin,_ but even if he did, he wouldn't have put too much effort into it.

Besides, after a few weeks they would think of him as more of an adult, since he would be going on missions with the Order and spending more time with their parents than them, so they would stop trying to  _include_ him, as if he was lonely or something. It was such a foreign concept to him that he actually had a bit of trouble keeping his mask up when he realized it. He may be their age, but he wasn't some sad and depressed geek with no friends. He was a psychopathic assassin that was practically Lord Voldemort's right hand, not that they had any idea. It was still insanely funny though.

"So...Julian. What school do you go to? Or do you still go to school?" Hermione asked timidly. She felt like Ginny had when she had first seen Jason. He was just so...ugh! Green eyes quickly cleared and focused on her, making her feel like the most important girl in the world. Blue eyes in her peripheral vision narrowed, but she couldn't care less.

"Oh, I've never went to a magical school, if that's what you mean. The first few years of my life I went to a public muggle school, but after I learned basic math and how to read and write, I met my guardian, and I dropped out." Hermione looked at Julian with barely hidden awe. He became this powerful with _out_ going to school? She had unknowingly voiced her thoughts aloud and Julian laughed slightly.

"I'm not  _that_ powerful Hermione. Besides, like I mentioned, I had a guardian. He taught me much of what I already know." Warm brown eyes watered slightly with unshed tears, knowing the story of his parent by the tense of his sentence.

"When did he...die?"

Emeralds suddenly turned cold, and she knew she had breached unsafe and definitely restricted territory. Just as she was about to apologize, he lightly grasped her hand, and she couldn't help but love the feeling of his soft, warm palm.

"No apologies Hermione. It was long ago, even if the wounds still seem fresh. While I don't wish to speak of him, just know that he will always be the most important person in my life, whether he has gone to rest with Magic or will return to me in this life or the next. All I know is that when two souls make a connection as mine did with his, they always find a way to meet each other again."

Emeralds suddenly grabbed the attention of everyone in the room without even trying, and blazed with an emotion none of them could say they were familiar with.

"Take this into consideration for the days to come, my friends. All familiar souls, whether they be loved ones, friends, non magical ones, or even enemies; they never quite manage to stay away from us for long. They always return to us, willingly- or not."

* * *

"So Professor, what's our next step? I mean, the kid was cool with joining, but we don't really know what he's like or how well he fights. And since he defied You-Know-Who, there's no way he can be a spy like  _Snape-"_

"Not that I would let him  _Sirius._ " Molly interrupted, but Lord Black ignored her entirely.

"So what's he gonna do? He's just a kid after all."

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled in amusement at each of his old students. Just like Molly, Albus was very wary of allowing their young Julian to fight, but he however, had a different reasoning. Not only did he wish to keep as many young people out of the war as possible, not that he had done very well in that endeavor, but something about the boy had just been so  _familiar._ Eerily familiar to that of a schoolboy he had failed to save during WWll while he was busy with his famous battle with Grindelwald.

_I lost two battles that year. One for my heart and one for the Wizarding World's future. And of course, for a lost orphaned boy who only wanted to prove himself to be something. Anything more than what others thought him to be at first glance._

Yes, Albus regretted a  _lot_ of the choices he had made. But this time, he would redeem himself.

At first, he had been completely willing to sacrifice Jason Potter. He was the Chosen One, and would have to defeat Voldemort, and probably end up dying in the process if his suspicions were correct. However, as time passed and he got to know the boy, the more he cared for him as his own grandson, and the more he realized he had no intentions of letting another innocent die in place of his mistakes.

_Oh Arianna. How I failed you._ He sighed internally.

That weight would never lift off his shoulders, and not once did he wish for it to. During his younger years he had let his own magic, self-importance, and his best friend's, Grindelwald's, narcissistic personality inflate his own ego to such a magnitude that he had  _actually_ thought he would join with his first, and only, lover, to take over the world and make it a better place.

_It had been for the Greater Good after all._

Albus always shuddered at the thoughts of his younger self. He thanked Magic time and time again for making him see sense before it was too late. And not that he wouldn't ever go back to change it if he had the chance, a part of him was happy Arianna had died. If only to help ground him when his god-like complex acted up again. Dumbledore shook his old head slightly, beard swishing to and fro. He always managed to get caught up in memories; memories that shouldn't be thought of when he should be focusing on more important things. Like Julian LaFaye, aka Montresor.

The boy was a...piece of work. Albus, himself, couldn't detect any malicious intentions within the boy, but that had been the same situation with young Tom Riddle. The only thing that had clued him in was that single visit to the orphanage.

_I can make them hurt-if I want._

Otherwise, he wouldn't have had a clue, like the rest of the professors. And after a few years, his suspicions had lessened. He always thought that perhaps Tom had just been bullied often at his "home", but once he felt the loving embrace of Hogwarts, he had managed to heal. However, all his dying inklings of something not being  _quite right_ with the too smart, too handsome, too polite, just overall  _too perfect_ boy were suddenly resurrected the day the Chamber of Secrets had been opened. Only one Parselmouth lived within the entire school, that he was aware of, and that person was the one and only Tom Riddle.

And from that day onward Albus Dumbledore watched as the most powerful and feared Dark Lord in history grew up and wreaked havoc across the whole British Wizarding community, and sooner rather than later, world. Dumbledore sometimes liked to reminisce about Tom as the smart and charismatic young boy he had once been. Unlike many Gryffindors, Albus didn't hold any sort of prejudice for the Slytherins. That might also be because of his age, but most people over a century old wouldn't care for such frivolities. In fact, he had something akin to respect for the ambitious house.

In his opinion, Slytherins were the most honest of the lot. Every person lied and manipulated to get their way, that was just the way the world was, but Slytherins admitted it without shame, and did they do it  _well._ He often wished Tom was still like that. In his honest opinion, he agreed with many things Tom had used to speak of in the 50's and 60's. Dark creatures, for one, deserved rights. Along with that, so many magics that were banned, definitely shouldn't be. Of course there were some that were altogether deadly and shouldn't be allowed to be used under any circumstances, but the restrictions in place now were just ridiculous. Not that Dumbledore always believed that to be true.

Back then, he had been completely against anything dark because he had still been getting over Grindelwald. Now, Dumbledore realized that magic was just that, magic. In its essence, magic was neither Light nor Dark. It just  _was._ However, how you  _used_ that magic was what should be taken into consideration, in the case of laws anyhow.

There were more things he  _didn't_ agree with though; like blood purity and distancing themselves from muggles. While he knew the whole bloody purity angle made by Tom was just to generate support from powerful Pureblood ministry officials and their rich families, he knew Voldemort truly believed in completely closing the Wizarding World off from muggles. In very few situations did Albus look through rose-tinted glasses, but sadly, this happened to be one of them.

Dumbledore didn't want to believe magic would be persecuted. He wanted to believe that everyone could live in harmony if they just slowly outed themselves. And just like men are willful to do, he put his old wizened head into some proverbial sand and pretended all was well. Besides that, Dumbledore now agreed with most of Tom's old ideals. What he completely disagreed with though, were his ways of achieving said ideals. Instead of trying to go through the courts, when Tom hadn't seen anything happening or any people joining her revolution, he had started an all-out war with Wizarding Britain, something Dumbledore could  _not_ agree with.

Why shed more blood? They had  _just_ gotten out of the war with Grindelwald, even if there hadn't been too many wizarding casualties, there had been loads of muggle ones. Why must there be more lives lost all because someone didn't agree with you? So Dumbledore, unintentionally, made himself the beacon of hope  _again,_ and tried to stop someone who he had failed,  _again._ All in all, Dumbledore was just  _tired._ He just wanted to rest, but he couldn't quite yet. He still had to save everyone, and this time, he wouldn't let any innocent take the fall.

Not like Arianna had.

* * *

"Please! Just stop it you bastard. Leave us both alone!" A frail woman yelled.

Harry looked on in silence as the stocky male smacked her in the face. Hard. He distantly noticed that that would leave a nasty bruise in the morning. She was very petite, and had pretty blue eyes with small golden shards. With her long white-gold hair that reminded him of the Malfoy's, she was quite the catch. But all those bruises on her took away her beauty, instead making her appear weak and fragile. Weakness in no way attracted him. It just made him want to squish whoever it was that showed it like the bug they were.

He cocked his gun, hands completely steady and eyes unfeeling. The man took another hit, but he didn't feel the need to hurry. Besides, the way his barrel looked in the moonlight was quite captivating. Green and silver truly were a great combination. Another hard smack could be seen, and this time the woman fell down on her side. The man was actually quite large, making a sliver of respect for the woman who could take such harsh blows form for her, and he had shortly cropped brown hair.

_Looks like military. Maybe he was a jackass to one of his people and that's why they want him dead._

Then, he lifted her up again, easily, as if she were a doll, and threw her on the table, whilst removing the thin nightdress she  _had_ been wearing a few moments before.

_Or maybe he raped one of them. Seems to be common practice between these two._

Suddenly, he felt the urge to eat a cinnamon roll.

_I wonder if I have any at the house. I hope so, because the urge won't leave until I get one._

For a few minutes, while he contemplated making himself that delicious treat, he was completely oblivious to what the poor woman was going through. He could easily hear her screams and whimpers as he raped her small, helpless body, but he honestly couldn't care less. He needed some cinnomany goodness! He blinked his eyes owlishly a second later; realizing that he had gotten off track, and internally promised himself the sweet, gooey gift once he went back home. He quickly took his shot, hitting the 40 year old right in the back of the head and apathetically watched as the woman screamed bloody murder.

Just as he started packing away his stuff, he noticed her frightened eyes lock on him, and without a second thought, he shot her right in her pretty face too. Couldn't have witnesses after all. He started packing  **again** ,  _really, couldn't these people even_ _ **attempt**_   _to not make his job any harder?,_ when he saw the face of a young boy pop out of one of the small bedrooms. He took one look at the two bodies, one of his father and the other of his mother, and let out a silent scream, unknowingly falling to his knees in the process.

His mother's usually perfect face that always became an easy smile at the sight of her special little boy was blown completely to bits. One of her beautiful eyes had even made its way across the room. His father, however, had his brains blown apart instead, red and grey mixing together into one all in all, unappealing mass and it sure didn't look as cool as it did on those zombie shows. It just looked freaking terrifying and disgusting.

Just as he could feel himself about to  _actually_ scream, he felt a warm hand touch his shoulder and he turned around slowly. In front of him stood a boy no older than 16, dressed in all black. He didn't notice the shotgun attached to his back and didn't notice the wand in his hand. Compassionate green eyes were all that filled his sight and he grabbed on to the boy, seeking comfort and momentarily forgetting about what he had just seen.

"Hey there kid. My name's Harry. What's yours?" The small child, no older than seven, looked up with a quiver in his lip, eyes the same as his beautiful mother's.

"I'm I-isaac. Are-are you an angel? Are you gonna save my mama and papa?" Harry cocked his head to the side and fingered one of Isaac's loose brown curls. The boy immediately leaned in to the touch.

"No, I can't save them now. They have passed. But I will give you two choices young Isaac." The small boy nodded shakily, fearing the worst, but he calmed down considerably at the sight of those caring, honest emeralds.

"One, I can take away all your memories. You won't have to deal with having to feel the pain of them dying. I'll make sure to take you to the best family I can find and you can live happily ever after. Without your parents. Or, I can take you to your mama and papa, but you'll never be able to come here again. You'll have to leave your friends, school, and everything else. But you'll be with them. I swear." Isaac bit his lip thoughtfully, not sure on what he should do. But eventually, he decided on the obvious choice. One that both of them had known he would choose all along.

"Pinkie promise I'll be with them?" And Harry gave him the most gorgeous grin at the words, one even better than his mama's, and took his pinkie in his own, while pulling him into a strong, but gentle embrace.

"Pinkie promise." he whispered, and Harry's wand eased its way out of his sleeve, and without a single word, Isaac's eyes became lifeless just like his mother's.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS: Rape, gory death, death of a child, psychotic musings, etc. Regular stuff.
> 
> BTW: That thing with touching between Voldemort and Harry was taken from Athey, who is an AMAZING writer of fanfiction. I don't remember what her story was called, but I took it from her. I didn't ask permission, but it's her idea (that I know of) so I'll give credit where it's due.


	11. Past, Present, and Future

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hello all! Sorry this chapter took so long. My mind hasn't been on fanfiction lately. ANYway, this is the final chapter that I already have written...so...you get to wait on chapters now! Isn't that FANTASTIC!?! No? Well....hm. Warnings are at the bottom and I hope you enjoy the newest installment to Malicious Intentions!

_"He wanted to leave the past a few hundred miles down the road, shake it off like dust. But that was the problem with the past. It kept finding him."_

_― Suzanne Woods Fisher, The Keeper_

* * *

People had always been fascinating to Julian.

Growing up he was never treated like everyone else, so of course that made him wish to seek out the reason  _why,_ and this of course led him to studying the people around him _._ This led to the belief that everyone around him were pathetic wastes of space. And his opinion hadn't changed with age.

The Aurors around him chatted and joked, bursts of laughter appearing at seemingly random intervals. Like always Julian felt completely out of it, all of his attention being required to just understand what was going on. This had always been the hardest part. Making idle chit chat. Especially when over three quarters of his mind had no interest in fulfilling that duty. So instead he just smiled and nodded, a skill he had easily mastered a  _long_ time ago. However, the skill was useless when you were being asked a question.

"So how'd you learn magic without going to Hogwarts? I haven't heard of any other wizarding schools nearby that aren't year round."

_Uraz for strength, Thorn for challenge….oh crap what's the one for life again? Remember, that's the one with a combination. You have birth, which is Berkano and-_

"Kid?"

A hand waved in his face and Julian realized his error. Green eyes widened comically and his smile turned into a sheepish grin. He forced his hand to run through his hair nervously while looking at the man from beneath his lashes.

"Sorry sir...got lost in my own world." The man, Sirius Black, barked out a laugh and smacked him on the back.

"Don't worry about it kid. The whole smile and nod trick is the easiest in the book. I totally get ya. You wouldn't believe how many conversations with  _any_ adult I've gotten through with..."

However, the skill  _was_  useful when getting caught because if you played it right it would bring you even closer with whoever you were trying to ignore.

_Looks like he'll continue on about school stories for awhile. Now what was that second rune for life?_

* * *

_Twist. Jump. Block. Protego. Stupify. Incarcerous. Repeat._

The mantra repeated itself over and over again within Julian's sharp mind, graceful movements allowing him to suffer no injuries at all. So far, he had taken down about twelve of the thirty werewolves present. All around him panicked "soldiers" sent slashing hexes and deadly curses at frightened men and women. It was pathetic to see how much fear controlled all of these  _filthy_ animals.

They  _all_ deserved to die in his opinion, if only to get out of his way. Not to mention-

"It BIT ME! OH MY GOD. Nononono! Please Merlin no!" It screamed in his ear.

Julian couldn't stop the look of disgust from breaching his pale face. How  _dare_ it interrupt his inner monologue? Not to mention his record of taking down seven werewolves in a row without stopping. He was just about to cross his all-time record of nine and that fool had to distract him! How could the filth? With a devastating sneer marring his lips unintentionally, Julian couldn't resist uttering a slashing hex to cleanly cut through its arm through the shoulder.

Just as he was admiring the cleanness of the cut, for from this distance he was surprised he had gotten it so  _perfect_ looking the stupid creature just  _had_ to start screaming bloody murder  _again._

"W-wha? My FUCKING ARM. WHAT THE FUCK! Why-oh my god it hurts! It huurts! Please-fuck make it stop. MAKE IT STOP. Oh fuck- I can still feel it! I can feel it, where'd it go. Where's my arm gone? Wha-FUCK." It's pasty skin was almost as white as his own with fear and shock, wide blue eyes blurry with tears and disbelief.

"I-I can still f-feel it. I-I'm m-moving it, b-but its not working. WHY ISN'T IT W-WORKING!" It cried pathetically.

While it continued to sniffle, Julian carefully checked his surroundings. Black and Potter were off somewhere else and all others were busy taking down the angry werewolves.  _Perhaps just this once…_  He slowly strode over to sorry lump that called itself Daniel Press. A pathetic excuse for a half-blood with a muggleborn mother and a muggle father. Perfect red drops fell to the ground from its shoulder and soaked everything beneath it.

_Looks like you're going to bleed out soon mister._ He sang internally.

With a worried pout and frown between his eyes, Montresor bent down to eye level with the animal before him. It continued to whine and mumble pathetically under its breath.

"I c-can feel it. M-my arm's moving, but it's not there and it  _hurts. It hurts s-so baaad."_ The mantra repeated itself until it was just whining incoherently to itself, tears leaked from its dilated eyes and Julian couldn't help but lick one up. The animal shouldn't care who takes its tears anyways. Not like it's ever going to use them.

"W-what are you doing man? Call for help! I need a Heal-healer. FUCK. Help me!" Montresor chuckled darkly and it's face lost the little bit of color it still had.

"You-you're one of them. GUYS! HEL-" He waved his wand without a care, silencing it easily.

"Do be quiet would you? I was  _trying_ to have a moment and you just  _had_ to start  _screaming_ like an imbecile. Did your mommy never tell you about using your  _inside voice?"_ Montresor tapped it's nose with his wand and shook his head condescendingly. As the glorious blood began to start oozing from the place his arm  _used_ to be instead of spurting, Montresor tutted and released a feral grin.

"Looks like someone's out of time. See you on the other side." And with one last glimpse at the boy who sipped on his tears like a fine wine, he shut his eyes for the last time.

* * *

"So what did you think Julian? Not too scared were ya?"

Black easily swung his thick arm over the smaller wizard's shoulders. For some reason he reminded him of someone he used to know. Bright eyes glanced up at him bashfully and Sirius grinned sharply at the sight. The poor boy was much too shy. And then he knew who he reminded him of.

His brother-Regulus.

Of course he didn't look much like him...except for the black hair, but there was something about his mannerisms...it just screamed his baby bro.  _The brother he failed to save._

While Sirius had never been close to his younger brother, he had still  _cared._ He realized now that the distance between them was mostly his fault, making the loss that much harder to bear. Poor sweet Regulus...all alone, forced into Black politics and inevitably joining the Dark Lord. Sirius still remembered the last time he spoke to him. It had been  _so long ago,_ but he still remembered it as if it were yesterday...

* * *

" _You can't just LEAVE! I mean, yes you argue with mother and father, but that doesn't mean-"_

" _Just shut it Reggy! You don't fucking know ANYTHING." Sirius slammed his trunk on his unmade bed, throwing in random bits and pieces-things he knew he didn't need but still wanted to bring with him, things that spoke of_ _home_ _. The home he had always pretended he had._

" _Yes I do Siri. You-you can't leave. You can't leave me b-by myself." Sirius slowed down his packing and turned towards Regulus, not surprised to see tears in his eyes._

_Dark grey just like their bitch mother._

_Sirius sneered and shut his trunk, glaring so hard he was surprised the boy's face didn't melt off._

" _Oh, does the perfect Black heir need someone to take the brunt of mummy's temper? I'm fucking DONE with this family. And that includes YOU_ _Regulus_ _." His brother had flinched at the full use of his name, not having heard Sirius call him that since...ever._

" _B-but Siri-"_

_Sirius smacked the hand that had been reaching toward him and Regulus brought it to his chest with a look of complete surprise on his face. Sirius's face morphed into regret immediately._

" _Oh shit I'm sorry I just-"_

" _You know what? Fine. Go ahead and leave. I-I won't miss you and no one else in this family will either! Go away you- you blood traitor!"_

_And with those words Sirius's choice was made and without a final glance, he strode away from his family with cold anger and sadness chilling his heart._

* * *

He had never forgiven himself for not making up with his brother. He thought about him every day...the  _regret_ he felt completely overwhelming sometimes. The idea that he'd  _never_ be able to tell Regulus just how much- Just how much he  _loved_ him tore him to pieces.

And the idea that Regulus, no  _Reggy_ actually thought that he  _didn't-_ it burnt those torn pieces to ash.

But this boy, this young sweet boy who acted so much like his baby brother, and who had almost been taken by the Dark, well, maybe if he saved  _him,_ it would be like saving his own brother too.

Right?

* * *

Harry felt like he was on cloud nine.

All of his plans were happening  _just_ as predicted, he had gotten in a nice bloody kill today, and he had the rest of the day off.

Everything was  _splendid._

He actually felt like treating himself. Maybe he would make  _steak_ tonight! Nice and bloody, with a yummy baked potato. Just  _perfect._

And of course, his wrist band had to go off, signaling that the Dark Lord wanted to see him.

_Ugh, this is why I became an assassin and not a waiter or something. I don't want to be CALLED. Goodness._

But like the good little boy he was he didn't fuss or complain, even if this was mildly irritating and he did  _not_ want to play with little Death Eaters and powerful Dark Lords right now. Couldn't he just hang out by himself for a bit? The burning he was beginning to feel on his wrist gave him his answer. With an exaggerated eye roll to himself Harry apparated over, feeling much like a busy mother being called upon by her spoiled child. As if he didn't have  _better_ things to do.

He slid one hand through his hair and made sure his white dress shirt was straight. He didn't bother with a robe. He didn't feel like impressing anyone with how wizard-y he looked. Mostly, he just wanted to go home and eat...but hey, he wasn't known for his perfect control for nothing right?

With a deep breath Montresor cleared his mind of all thoughts and walked into the room with every bit of confidence he possessed and a grin to match. With a short bow and cheeky smirk he entered the richly styled room. It wasn't one he was familiar with, but it was just as nicely furnished as the others he had seen. The walls were a dark green, undoubtedly in recognition of Salazar Slytherin, and the floors were a white marble.

Large windows with colored glass adorned each wall, but curtains covered each of them, giving the room a dark and cold feeling. Montresor couldn't have been more at home and easily walked over to the dining table that stretched across over half of the room. The Dark Lord sat at the head unsurprisingly, and Harry looked to him for instruction on his seating.

His whole being burned at the submissive gesture.

Lord Voldemort grinned and waved his long-fingered hand at the place to his right and without another glance he took his seat, hands placed behind his head. For a moment they sat in silence, the only two beings within the large room. Thoughts of steak and taking care of his contract on Rodrick Penthouse this evening flowed through his mind like soda.

At first they were refreshing, but they left a sour aftertaste, making him crave more.

He opened his eyes without warning and set his hands on the table, accidentally brushing against the Dark Lord's own. Both moaned without permission and pulled away just as fast. Montresor's lips pinched slightly, but nothing else crossed his face.

"I apologize my Lord. It was purely accidental."

He then realized that the Dark Lord didn't look angry, merely curious. He gripped Harry's hand tightly without his consent, snatching it like a snake after a fat mouse, causing both to feel wave after wave of pleasure run through them. Neither of their faces changed.

"Have you done your homework Montresor? Or have Dumbledore and his lackey's kept you busy?" Voldemort's eyes glittered ominously, obviously hoping he would be incapacitated by the pleasure running through his body. Harry loved nothing more than disappointing.

"Of course my Lord. The link between us must either be by soul or magic. While our predicament has never been recorded based on my findings, similar instances have been seen with soul bonds. Mainly between close siblings or lovers. Since we are neither, I'm assuming our magic has some sort of bond. It's never been heard of out of close family members, and even then it's extremely rare and not to the degree of our... _connection._ However, if our magic was similar enough, theoretically this could happen. Your magic sees mine as his own and vice versa, causing them to want to be as close as possible. I don't completely understand why this causes pleasure of all things though."

Voldemort looked to the distance, his thumb beginning to stroke the outside of Montresor's hand without his knowledge.

"What you have said is much of what I have found as well. Certain types of soul magic that I'm sure you aren't privy to could also theoretically cause this effect, but the ways of it coming about are impossible between us. So yes, it must be a magical bond. The pleasure induced may be from our magic actually  _meeting._ It rejoices at seeing what it finds to be something of a long lost brother of sorts. I'm more interested in the possible benefits of this relationship, however."

Fire-red eyes met Montresor's cool green and the Dark Lord unknowingly licked his lips. He brought his other hand up and placed it upon the other male's pale cheek. Neither looked away from the other.

"Because our magic is so similar, we could most likely tap into the other's and use their magical core as well as our own. Imagine all the complicated rituals and spells one could do with access to a whole other pool of magic. The mere  _possibilities_ …"

As the Dark Lord had been talking, Montresor and him had slowly began edging closer to one another. By the end of it they were nose to nose. Voldemort's words died off and silence echoed throughout the room, and never did red and green break their stare. Voldemort could clearly feel the boy's breath on his own lips, but before he could do anything about that small fact the heavy wood doors bursted open, causing them both to rip apart their gazes, faces, and hands.

The Dark Lord saw many of his other allies entering, internally ticking each of them off when the boy he had recently began thinking of as a enigma let out a harsh gasp.

It was the most  _real_  emotion he had ever seen come from the younger wizard. He looked to the boy immediately and was surprised at what he saw. Montresor's face expressed complete disbelief and above all  _joy._ And when he whispered what he did, Voldemort could barely believe his ears.

"F-father?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS: Gore, Death, lots of cursing. Almost-kiss haha.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed it and I'd absolutely LOVE to hear what you think. Remember, reviews make me want to update faster and next chapter is Harry's backstory. :D


	12. Forever and Ever

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I'm officially posting new chapters on both here and FF. Can't go over there for more chapters...sorry. Also, apologies for this taking longer than I thought it would! My internet went off, so the last couple scenes I had to write had to be saved for today. This chapter is EXTREMELY graphic and disturbing. Probably the worst I've ever written. Lots of stuff happening. So, if that stuff bothers you, warnings will be on the bottom. I wouldn't want to ruin the surprise for the various freaks out there just like me. :D Anyway, I hope you enjoy about 10,000 words of Harry's backstory! 
> 
> For those who don't read my A/N's....WARNINGS ON BOTTOM YOU MAY WANT TO CHECK IT OUT!

_All you have is your fire, and the place you need to reach. Don't you ever tame your demons, always keep them on a leash._

_-_ Hozier,  _Arsonist's Lullabye_

* * *

"Don't worry mama; I'll take care of us." Harry said, smiling in a way he knew his mummy would trust.

He understood that she was embarrassed and worried about all the people around, and even if  _he_ didn't get it, he didn't want his mummy stressed. So he did what he could. Her eyes crinkled for a moment, unsure of what to do, but she gave in eventually-rushing to get whatever she wanted so badly from the store. Harry just grabbed his little brother's hand who gurgled happily, his tan skin conflicting harshly with Harry's pale white. Jason stumbled a bit, but Harry righted him and sat him at one of the tiny chairs in the kid's section.

Harry focused  _really hard,_ hoping that no one, especially those big people with the flashy things would find them. Like always, his wish came true and he grinned, grabbing a book off the shelf, struggling a bit to understand some of the words.

_What's a phantom? Never seen a word with p and h together. How would you say that?_

As he rolled the possible meaning and pronunciation of the word, a dark shape appeared behind him, hood covering its face. But Harry didn't notice him at all. And he sure didn't notice when the shape shot a spell at his back and apparated away with him.

* * *

Harry, no matter how hard he tried to remember, couldn't recall a time at the Dursley's when he was loved or cared for.

He didn't know why he was forced to come here when beforehand he had been perfectly happy. With the younger, differently colored version of him, a woman with fiery red hair, and a man who had the same face as his own. They had all been really nice, always feeding him when he was hungry and reading him stories at night when he was restless, and secretly scared of what might be hidden in the dark corners of his room.

And he had had his own  _room_! It was really pretty, with bright yellows and light blues and a big bed in the middle with the softest blankets  _ever._ But now...well, he lived in a cupboard of all places.

There were constantly spiders everywhere, which he had been scared of at first cause they were  _creepy,_ but had befriended soon after when he started getting really lonely.

Yeah. It was really tough at this new place sometimes.

Aunt Petunia always reserved her harshest look for him and her husband, Vernon, was really mean. His face always got super red at the sight of Harry, and sometimes he'd grab Harry a little  _too_ roughly and he couldn't help but think that this  _never_  happened at the nice place.

And with every passing day, Harry began to believe that the nice place had never existed. That it had all been a dream. And in the deepest part of his heart, he began to believe this because the alternative, well, the alternative was that those wonderful people with warm smiles and happy faces reserved for  _him-_ they gave him up on purpose.

And if that was the case, then he was as worthless as the Dursley's thought him to be.

* * *

_2 Years Later_

* * *

Harry's first day at school had been everything he thought it would be. Some of the teachers were nice, but most had already been talked to by his Aunt and Uncle, so they hated him just like everyone else.

The kids were okay, until Dudley saw that his little freak cousin was getting any kind of attention that didn't include fists and insults. He threatened and poisoned them against Harry, making him more alone than ever. He didn't understand why everyone just took the Dursley's word for it. Why didn't he have a chance to prove himself? Why couldn't  _he_  be liked for once? He didn't think there was anything  _extremely_ wrong with him. He was just a regular kid.

 _But you're not. You're just a nasty little freak._ His mind whispered to him, sounding oddly like Aunt Petunia herself.

And as the days passed, the teachers hating him, his peers ostracizing him, and his 'family' utterly  _despising_ him, that voice began to morph with his own and what before had just been one of many mean insults thrown at him became a defining title.

* * *

"You're such a stupid  _freak_ Potter. I want you to say it for me.  _Say it!"_

Dudley's fists pounded into his stomach, and then onto his face when he fell to his knees. The boys around him giggled and pointed, finding Harry's position hilarious.

"Look at the fairy cry! Only nasty  _fairy_ boys cry like that. I bet you're not even a boy! You're just a big blubbering  _girl!"_ Harry whimpered and bit his lip, trying to hold in his cries. They were right of course. Harry couldn't even take a few punches without tearing up. All the other boys could when  _they_  played.

_But they don't insult each other too do they? And they don't all gang up on just one._

Harry ignored that train of thought though in favor of keeping himself upright. Dudley sent one last kick his way, right on his chin, and he fell over backwards, letting loose a great sob.

"Oh, you gonna cry for your mummy? But  _wait,_ you don't have one do you! Stupid Potty wants his  _mOOmmy._ " Dudley sang.

Harry wiped his face, tears and blood streaked his small fist. Just as all the boys began to crowd him, a voice interrupted.

"Hey! What you all doin'? We playn' a game?" The boy marched through the crowd, dark brown fringe falling into his eyes every now and then.

"Oh, why you all messed up? You guys pickn' on him?" The boy pointed to him and Harry shied away from the extra attention. Three guys on him was enough. He couldn't take four.

"Eh, it's just Freaky Potty. It's not picking if they deserve it. That's what my dad says." The blonde on the left puffed up his chest and it sickened Harry. How could hurting someone else  _ever_ be considered okay?

"Well I don' think that's very nice. You need ta leave 'im alone." Harry's apathetic stare into the sky turned sharply to the new boy, his eyes widening with surprise.

"You can't just say that and make us stop. We do what  _we_ want to." The other boy, a ginger, raised his eyebrow mockingly at the other boy.

"Well I guess I'll just have to stop you then, huh?" Dudley growled angrily, his face getting red just like his father's and Harry flinched. He didn't like thinking about how Vernon got when he looked like that.

"Whatever you guys. We can beat  _it_ up later." And they stomped off.

Harry still laid on the ground and he assessed his injuries. His nose was definitely broken and his belly really hurt. He just hoped his freaky abilities would help him out. While feeling himself he almost missed the hand in his face.

Almost.

Harry's eyes snapped up to the brightest blue he had ever seen.  _Like that bedroom..._ and when the boy plopped beside him and gave him half of his salami and swiss sandwich, he smiled for the first time in a long time.

* * *

_A Little Over 1 Year Later_

* * *

"So you don't have a mummy or daddy?" Harry shook his head softly, messy black curls sprawled and intertwining with the grass.

"I sometimes have these weird dreams...about this family. But I don't think they're real."

All was silent for a moment when his first, and only friend, whispered, "I wish I didn't have a mummy or daddy."

Harry's eyebrows squished together, his face twisting with confusion.

"What do you mean?"

The other boy was sprawled right beside him, but he had righted himself on his side, his hands lightly running through the grass where his hair was. Ever since that day during lunchtime the other boy, whose name was actually Scott Washer, had stuck by Harry's side like super glue. Harry couldn't be more happy.

"Well...my daddy isn't like other daddies. He gets really mad a lot, but when  _he_ gets mad he throws me and my mommy around. I don't like it when he does that." Harry looked at Scott sadly, completely understanding where he was coming from. He knew how daddies got.

"It's okay Scott. Sometimes Uncle Vernon gets like that too, but he doesn't hurt Aunt Petunia or Dudley. He...he just comes after me." Scott's eyes widened with surprise, his hand reaching out to grip Harry's.

"Does he do the nighttime thing too?" Harry's face returned to confusion, but he grabbed Scott's hand when it reached out to him anyways.

"What nighttime thing? Vernon's never come into my cupboard before." Scott sighed in obvious relief, his grip on Harry's hand moving to his shoulder to bring him into a hug.

"Don't worry about it Harry. As long as it doesn't happen to you, it'll be okay."

* * *

_Another Year Later_

* * *

"Stupid freak! How  _dare you_ use your freaky abilities in my house! Get  _out! GET OUT!"_

Harry ran for his life, short bony legs moving as fast as possible. A dish crashed beside his face, small pieces of glass cutting into his bruised cheek. He dashed through the door, running until he made it to his only safe place. The place with the willow tree and soft grass.

He huddled by the trunk and wiped his tears, blood falling from the cuts on his face. He gingerly poked the bruises appearing around his neck and arm were he had been grabbed and winced. He wished with all his might that Scott were here because it had  _never_ been this bad and he swore he didn't mean to slam Dudley against the wall but he had been  _scared_ and didn't want his favorite fairy tale book to be ruined by him and-

"What are you doing here Harry? And-oh my god what's wrong with your face!? Are you okay?" The older boy rushed to his side, bright blue eyes like starlight darkened by worry.

"I-I...I did a freaky th-thing and Vernon got mad and I un-understand he was right to be-"

"Don't you  _dare_ Harry." Harry's gaping mouth slammed shut at Scott's tone, his eyes lowered in fear and worry. He didn't see how the boy's eyes softened at the sight of him.

"Harry, y-you know that you aren't a freak right? I mean, whatever you can do,  _whatever_ it is, it's a blessing. You wanna know how I know?" Harry's tear-filled eyes lifted up slightly and Scott gripped his shoulders kindly.

"Because everything about you is perfect and kind. Nothing about you is wrong or freaky, so whatever powers you have must be just as cool as you." Harry grinned shyly at that and shook off his hands, even though he knew that he was wrong.

"Thanks Scott. You always know what to say." Scott grinned brightly at that and took his seat right beside Harry, a hand lifted up to curl around Harry's shoulders.

"Yeah, I am pretty amazing." Harry shoved at Scott's side, bruised face curled into a brilliant smile.

"Whatever mister. Why are you here anyway?" Scott's own smile dimmed considerably and he scooted even closer to Harry's side.

"Some... _things_ were happening at the house. I didn't want to be around for awhile." Harry's own face darkened and he cursed himself for not being able to help his best friend more. Scott  _always_  knew what to do, but Harry wasn't as good about helping out his friend with words.  _Actions_ though…

"How about I spend the night tonight?" Scott turned his head so sharply he almost hit it on the tree trunk, his mouth opened slightly in surprise.

"I-no Harry. You can't come to my house. Ever." Harry's head cocked to the side, not understanding his best friend's words.

The Dursley's  _never_ hurt Harry when company was around, even when the only company were Dudley's little friends. If Harry was around, Scott's parents would leave him alone too, right?

"Why not? If I'm around your daddy won't hurt you. Vernon never does  _anything_ when people are around." Scott started shaking his head immediately, but stopped at the look on Harry's face and looked upward for a moment in thought.

"Well...my parents never have anyone around when  _I'm_ around. Or I'm just sent to my room. Do you...do you think it'll work?" Harry nodded his head frantically, his heart pumping with excitement.

"Yeah! We can stay up and tell stories and stuff like other people do at sleepovers. And you won't even have to worry about the nighttime stuff!"

Harry could see Scott's excitement raise with every word, his eyes shining and lips splitting open, a flower blooming and growing faster and faster-until he mentioned the 'nighttime stuff'. Then the flower wilted and died.

"What's wrong? Everything would be perfect. No worries about hurting or the nightti-"

"No Harry." Scott swiped Harry's hand away which had been reaching towards his shoulder, his face dark with a grimace.

"I can't risk that okay? Y-you don't understand. T-the nighttime stuff…" His face twisted to something unrecognizable and his usually bright blue eyes darkened with fear. But Harry had had enough. He had always been the submissive one, the damsel in distress. But  _no more._ Sometimes even the weak have to take up arms and fight for what's right. Especially when it concerns their knight in shining armor.

" _No_ Scott." His older friend,  _best friend_ , looked up at him, completely shocked. Harry never talked back.

"I  _am_  going to help you. Every time I'm hurt you always help me out, and you have to deal with everything alone. I'm not letting you be alone anymore. I'm coming with you and that's that." Scott shook his head again, disbelief still prominent on his face.

"You  _do_ help me though Harry, but this-"

"This is something I  _need_  to help you with Scott. I'm telling you, with me there, we'll  _both_ be safe." And Harry pulled Scott into a tight hug and made sure to give him a kiss on the head afterwards like he remembered the redhead always doing when he was scared in his dreams.

"Now, what kinds of games do you have?"

* * *

"Just come in here real quiet. I don't know if he's done with mum yet." Together, Harry and Scott made their way to the richer side of Privet Drive, where the three story houses with separate buildings for their garages were.

Harry had never been down this way. Not only was he not allowed to stray too far from the house usually, but the obvious wealth  _bothered_ him. Made him feel lowly and inadequate. Harry looked down and couldn't help but notice how frayed and dirty his baggy clothing looked. And how expensive and nice Scott's was. All the times Scott would come to school with freshly wrapped cheeses and specially made sandwiches rushed through his mind and how Scott always seemed to have the newest and most expensive clothing. It had never been as apparent just how  _rich_ Scott was until now.

Finally they made it to his friend's home, and it was absolutely  _gorgeous._ The lawn was freshly trimmed and a dark green. The house itself was three stories tall and was an impossibly light yellow. Four windows lined up and down and across three times and the shingles were a dark navy blue. The door was partly glass and the door knob looked like it was made of  _gold._

"Oh my god Scott. Your  _house…_ " Scott looked over at his friend shyly, slightly embarrassed at how wealthy he looked. He knew that Harry had next to nothing, even though his  _family_ was strictly middle-class. It just didn't feel right showing off like this. But before they could turn back, the glass door shot open and a thin woman with doey brown eyes graced them both with a brilliant smile.

"Scottie! Where have you been baby? I was worried  _sick_! Your father said not to call the police and of  _course_ I listened, but secretly I was scared you had gotten kidnapped or something! But you're alright and that's all that matters and-wait, who's that Scottie?"

The gentle-looking woman stopped running her hands over her apron nervously and set her deep chocolate brown eyes upon Harry, who squirmed and ran a thin hand through his dirty black hair. Her face showed her surprise at the sight of the small boy and she rushed them both in, mumbling words neither could decipher.

"Scottie, run and get mummy's first aid kit from the kitchen. Don't dally baby,  _now_!" Scott ran quickly, cursing both himself and Harry for not thinking of cleaning Harry's injuries at  _all._ Of  _course_ his mum would notice! He came back to see his mother fretting over Harry, her tan hands petting him kindly. He first felt a burst of jealousy, Harry was  _his friend,_ but when he saw the awe and happy-filled expression on his best friend's face it was all blown away as fast as it appeared.

It shocked him at the epiphany he had just then, realizing that even though his... _dad_ was awful and mean and just  _terrible..._ at least he had someone to hug him at night. Harry...Harry had  _no one._

"Thank you baby. Now after I take care of this young man we're going to have a nice  _long_ talk about what exactly happened. You understand?" And Scott nodded sharply, not caring in the slightest. Because  _he_ was coming.

* * *

Harry had never been happier. Besides in the dreams he had of course. But  _those_ weren't even real.

This though,  _this was_ real.

While her hand ran through his hair and made shivers rush down his spine he pretended that this was his life. That when he got hurt his mummy would pet his hair and whisper sweet words meant to calm and soothe. He knew that he'd  _never_ forget this. And when she carried him to the bathroom and washed his face with soap and water, her calming words never stopping, he knew that the dreams didn't matter anymore.

Now he had something  _real._

* * *

He was big. The biggest man he had ever seen.

He wasn't fat or anything, far from it actually. Every appendage seemed to throb and constantly flex, the muscles underneath squirming like snakes. His face was rough, his jawline sharp and nose long. Unlike Scott's mum, who was soft like a cloud, all smiles and gentleness, this man was  _hard._

_Unforgiving._

The man seemed to be trying to hide it though. He smiled just like the mum, completely kind and charming. But Harry knew something was... _wrong._ Something not  _quite right_ about him. At least deep down he knew. On the surface...he was completely deceived. As children are apt to be.

"So  _Scott._ Who's this young man you decided to bring home tonight out of the blue? Haven't we talked about asking permission?" The man's smile didn't sharpen, no matter how threatening the words sounded. They were perfectly calm,  _patient._ Harry didn't feel the tension in the room.

"My name's Harry Potter Mr. Washer sir. Scott and me have been friends for  _ages._ We decided it would be fun to spend the night together; if that's alright with  _you_ of course sir." Harry smiled brightly, hoping his words would keep Scott out of trouble. He had assumed Scott's parents were like Vernon and Petunia. But they  _weren't._ They actually  _cared_ for Scott of all things!

Harry couldn't help but think of how Scott never came to school with bruises or anything. What if-what if he had just been exaggerating? Harry didn't fault him for it of course...but some kids thought a smack on the hand for a wrong was abuse. What if Scott thought that too?

Harry never thought that maybe Scott's father was just a  _bit more_  clever than Vernon, clever enough to keep all bruises under clothes.

"What a lovely name. However, I can't seem to remember any Potter's around here..."

"Oh! Yeah, I live with my Aunt and Uncle. Petunia and Vernon Dursley. They live a ways down Privet Drive." The man's smile never changed, but his eyes brightened. For what reason, Harry didn't know.

"I see. And do they know where you are now  _Harry_?" Beside him Scott squirmed and his best friend's mother seemed oddly silent, her small hands twitching nervously every so often.

Yet again, Harry remained oblivious. He was just happy to have someone  _care._ Care enough to look solely  _at him_ and ask for his name without sneering or glaring. It was new. And irresistable.

"Oh, they don't care for me much. I'll be punished for not being there in the morning to make breakfast, but that's okay. Vernon didn't want me around for awhile anyway." Harry didn't know what caused him to say all this. Usually he would never tell  _anyone_ about his family. He hadn't told Scott until after almost an entire year of friendship, and even then it was only after he told him  _he_ was hurting just like him.

At this realization he closed up, fearing the worst. How could he be so  _stupid?!_ Why would Scott lie about his family? About his daddy? Scott would  _never_ lie about something like that. And he wouldn't exaggerate either! But all these thoughts were blown away when the man's eyes softened, bright blue just like Scott's-  _just like that bedroom_ \- and he took his hands, his callouses rubbing reassuringly against his own soft palms.

"It's okay Harry. You can stay here as  _long_ as you want." And his smile was so  _nice_ and  _perfect_ that Harry didn't question the man again.

Scott grimaced beside him.

* * *

That night was the best of Harry's life.

Scott and Harry went up to his room on the  _top floor_ and it was  _awesome._ It was huge and the bed was super soft and comfy, the blankets fluffy and silky under his fingers. The walls were a brilliant teal-  _my favorite color, remember Harry?-_ and the floors had carpet and were so  _soft._

Everything was soft and warm, so unlike the cold and hard of his cupboard.

So unlike his  _life._

And for now he could escape, pretend that Scott was his big brother and they shared this room and it was  _his_ parents that were downstairs making dinner, a dinner  _he_ didn't have to make for once! It was all so  _perfect_ and  _wonderful_ that half the time he was there he felt like bursting into tears.

"Hey Harry, it's your turn." And when Harry rolled the dice and moved five spaces forward and landed in jail, he didn't realize how ironic that move would seem in just a few hours.

* * *

"Harry, Scott. Would you mind coming downstairs with me for a bit?" Scott's gigantic father, a man he now knew to be named Charles, motioned slightly at Harry and Scott, who were both looking through their movie selection.

"Oh, we were just about to watch a movie…" Scott mumbled, glancing between his mother and Harry quickly. Eventually his gaze stuck on his mother.

"Charles, why can't this wait until la-"

"Because I said  _now_ Rose." His voice was oddly cold, a way Harry had never heard the man talk before. His blue eyes were blazing, and Scott's mother backed down quickly, rubbing her hands up and down the apron she still wore from earlier when making cookies.

"And  _Scott,_ you would do well to remember not to question me. All because we have a guest doesn't mean you have an excuse to forget our lessons. Am I _clear_?" Scott nodded hurriedly, and so did Scott's mother oddly enough.

The man then turned to Harry, all previous coldness gone as if it had never existed.

"Sorry about that Harry. Now, would you mind coming with me? Unlike my  _son_  you seem to be polite and respectful of your elders."

Charles sent a meaningful glance at Scott who shuddered and closed in on himself, but Harry didn't notice. All he could think was that an  _adult_ thought well of him.  _Liked him_ even. And Harry couldn't help but think that Scott  _had_ been pretty rude to Mr. Washer. If  _he_ had a dad like him he'd  _never_ talk back! So Harry hopped up and reached out for Scott, a smile firmly planted on his face.

"Come on Scott, I'm sure it won't take long." But Scott knew, and shuddered again as he took Harry's hand.

* * *

"So boys, I would like to play a game. Scott's very familiar with it, but I doubt you've played Harry. You want to know the rules?" After Harry had grabbed Scott's hand, Mr. Washer had led them down to the basement, a soft humming coming from him the only sound that was made the entire walk down.

Harry repeatedly gripped Scott's shoulder, sending him encouraging looks all the while. He didn't  _completely_ believe Scott had exaggerated. Adults did that all the time to him, just because Vernon and Petunia could be kind and charming when need be. But that didn't mean he wasn't  _sceptical._ Scott's mum was super nice either way, to both him  _and_ Scott. Petunia wouldn't fake  _that_ much kindness even if the bloody Queen herself stopped by.

So his mum must be alright. And if  _she_ was alright, why on earth would she allow Scott to be hurt so much? She had to know something of it, so Harry was firm in his belief that Scott's abuse wasn't as bad as he had made it out to be. It was only logical right? Now, Scott shivered slightly beside him, lower lip quivering and eyes skating between the door and their interlocked hands.

Harry held Scott's hand in a way he  _hoped_ was reassuring and grinned up at Mr. Washer, excited and interested at this new game he had never played. Was it like the card games Vernon played with his friends? Would Harry be invited to play a  _grown- up_ game?!

"Of course sir! What are we gonna play?" Mr. Washer smiled brightly at Harry's grin and big eyes and couldn't believe his luck.

 _The first friend he brings by and he's_ perfect.

Harry didn't notice the predatorial gleam Scott's father's eyes took on.

"Well, it's very simple. We're going to play out a scene from one of my favorite shows. It's a grown up show so I doubt you've seen it." Harry's mouth closed when his question was immediately answered, and nodded slightly in thought.

"Okay, so what are our roles? Oh, can I be a knight? I've always wanted to be a knight cause they save princesses and are  _so cool-"_

" _Harry_!" Harry's mouth shut with a loud  _Cling!_ in the room, his eyes wide and filling with fear. His yell...it had been  _scary._ The man's eyes softened immediately after and he bent down on one knee, kind blue eyes sought Harry's own green.

" _Harry._ " He almost refused to look the man in the eye, but then he gripped his chin and  _forced_ him to look, his face just a bit too close for comfort.

"I'm sorry I had to yell, but this is  _my_ game remember?  _I_ make the rules. Are you really going to make me quit my game for yours? That seems a bit rude…" Harry couldn't believe what he had done.

This man, this  _adult_ , had actually decided to play a game with him and he  _had_ to make it all about him. It was so  _rude._ Vernon would have punished him already for  _sure_. But not this man, not  _Charles._

"S-sorry Mr. Washer. I-I didn't m-mean to be selfish. We can play your game." Mr. Washer gave him a thousand watt smile and gripped him into a tight hug, his hand running up and down Harry's back.

"No worries Harry. I know you were just excited." Charles stood up after that and while Harry was distracted by the utter  _warmth_ surrounding him still because that was the  _first_ hug any adult had  _ever_ given him and he  _couldn't-_ he just couldn't handle it, Mr. Washer sent a look at Scott, who had kept his head down the entire time.

"Scott, we're going to play Bobbies and Thugs. We haven't played that one for awhile have we?" Scott's eyes widened to unimaginable proportions at that and glanced at Harry quickly, not believing his ears.

 _Bobbies and Thugs? But...but we can't play_ that  _unless..._ And Scott knew this would be the worst day of his life.

* * *

"Alright  _Harry_ , sense you're new to the game we'll let Scott start okay? If you don't like it, remember-you can ask to stop at  _any_ time. Alright?" Mr. Washer was still on his knees, calm blue eyes staring straight into his own. Harry could feel his lips pull into another grin and he nodded rapidly, head going so fast his chin butted against his chest.

"Of course Mr. Washer sir. Just tell me what to do." The man's grin sharpened and he stood up quickly, walking over to the small cage within the room.

"Bobbies and Thugs is just what it sounds like. You and Scott are going to be the thugs while I'm the bobby okay?" Harry nodded again, excited to get started. He wondered what all they would do. Maybe he and Scott would have to try to escape?

"Now, I want both of you to get into the cage." Harry easily walked over to the cell, pulling the very  _not eager_ Scott along with him.

"Why you putting up such a fuss Scott? We'll just play this game real quick then go to sleep. You  _know_ he won't try anything with me here. You'll  _always_ be safe with me." Harry whispered.

Scott rolled his bottom lip between his teeth, his eyes becoming suspiciously wet. At that Harry stopped him, thoughts no longer on pleasing one of the  _only_ adults who actually  _liked_ him.

"Hey, you okay? Seriously Scott, don't worry. I won't let  _anything_ happen to you. Pinkie promise." Scott's eyes lifted to Harry's and his grimace turned into a small smile.

"Okay Harry. I trust you." And Harry then continued pulling Scott to the cage, knowing in his heart that if anything  _did_ happen, Harry would take the brunt of it.

No matter what.

"Alright boys. Since  _I'm_ the bobby, you have to do everything I say. You've both done some  _nasty_ things, so you have to be punished. Understand?"

So far Harry didn't really understand the point of this game. There were two itty bitty cots within the cage and a couple of weird holes through the bars. There was no way they could escape unless they had the key...so Harry didn't really see the point. To be honest he was pretty bored and just wanted to watch a movie with Scott. Adults were just... _weird._

"Now, my first order is for you to take your clothes off."

Harry had been counting the tiles on the ceiling, thoughts on whether he wanted to watch E.T, which Scott  _promised_ was beyond awesome, or Ghostbusters when he heard Mr. Washer say what he said. His head moved toward the man's face so fast he thought he might have whiplash.

"Ex-excuse me sir? What did you say?" Mr. Washer's eyes were kind, but the inflection on his voice wasn't.

"I  _said_ for you both to take off your clothes. I'm an officer of the law and  _command it!_ I need to do a strip search. Who knows what naughty things you pair of troublemakers may be hiding." The man's booming voice made him flinch, and beside him Scott's eyes were wide and fearful. Harry decided he  _really_ didn't want to play anymore.

"Sir...I don't think me and Scott want to play anymore. Thanks for letting us but-"

" _What did you just say?"_ Harry couldn't help but gulp audibly and he rubbed his left arm nervously while looking away from the man who was now kneeling right outside the cage.

"I-I said we don't want to play anymore." Mr. Washer's face abruptly changed, the pleasantness and kindness now so far from view Harry couldn't understand how they were there in the first place.

"Well I don't fucking  _care_ what you want  _boy._ I  _said_  take off your clothes. Or do you want me to come in there and make you, prisoner?" At the look on his face and the words and spittle flying from his mouth Harry rushed to comply, hands shaking while he tore off the large shirt from his small frame. Once both he and Scott were down to their knickers his face became calm again and a sweet smile appeared on his face.

"Good,  _good._ Prisoners who do what they're told get special treatment. Bad ones get punished. Is that understood?" Both the small, quivering boys nodded, eyes wide and frightened. Harry looked over at Scott, not understanding at  _all_ what was going on.

Why would Mr. Washer want them to take off their clothes? Vernon never did that when he punished Harry. Was this...was this the 'night time' stuff Scott hated to talk about? When Harry saw the returned quiver of Scott's lips and the tear streak down his cheek Harry's own fear was banished in favor of the cold anger that rose within Harry's chest.

_I'll protect you Scott. No matter what._

"Now Scott, I want you to take Harry and touch him a bit. He's been such a  _good_ boy that I think he deserves it. Don't you?" At Scott's shocked look his father's grin sharpened, eyes shining evilly.

"Or  _I_ can give him a special treat. Makes no difference to me." Scott raced over to Harry at that, small hands hesitantly coming to run through Harry's ink-black curls.

" _That's it Scott._ Now touch his neck and chest." Harry squirmed a bit at the feel of Scott's hands, not used to such an intimate touch. At Scott's shy look Harry tried to smile, to help make him feel better. It seemed that Mr. Washer took that look the wrong way.

"You like that do you  _Harry_? I knew it by the sight of you. How you'd just be  _begging_ for it by the end. Go ahead and kiss him Scott. I know both of you little _faggots_ would like that." Harry's eyes widened, not understanding why Scott's father was doing this.

Why would he want Scott and him...to-to  _kiss_ of all things. He'd never done anything like  _that_ before. Harry watched Scott swallow nervously, his tongue coming out to wet his lips. Harry cocked his head to the side, now curious as to what a kiss would be like. They always said girls had cooties, but did boys have them to? No one ever said so besides  _girls,_ but you couldn't trust them anyway. They liked to play with  _dolls_ of all things!

He and Scott were so close that Harry could count the number of lashes he had, and the little white flecks he had within his blue eyes. He looked towards his lips again, and pinched his own, now slightly scared because what if he really  _did_ become a faggot? Harry wasn't really sure what one  _was_ , but he knew they were really girly and liked to prance in a really silly way and Harry didn't  _want_ to be girly like everyone said he was and- _Scott's lips were on his._

It felt really  _weird._ It was kind of nice, so Harry understood why people may like to do it, but it wasn't anything special. They pulled apart soon after and Harry opened up his eyes-  _And when did I close them anyway?_

Scott smiled a little at him, a blush dusting his cheeks and suddenly the realization that  _he had just_ kissed  _Scott_  became so much more  _real_ and he knew that his whole face if not his entire body was beet red right now.

" _Good._ Very nice you two. You looked so sweet together. So  _cute._ Now Scott, I want you to take Harry's knickers off."

* * *

It went on for an hour or two.

Harry and Scott were...made to  _do things_ together, things Harry didn't understand and had never heard of and they  _hurt._ Scott cried when he hurt Harry, and that's what got to Harry the most. Harry had never seen Scott cry before. He was  _always_ the tough one. The  _strong_ one. And now Harry had to be strong. But when  _it_ happened again he really didn't know how to be.

"You boys have been  _so_ good. So good. So good that I might just go in there with you. How'd you feel about that?"

Harry had slowly but surely realized how much worse Scott's situation was. All because of  _him._ He was a monster.

While he and Scott had...done what he asked, he had  _filmed them_ of all things and...touched himself  _there_. Harry didn't know  _why_ he'd do that, and frankly he didn't  _want_ to know. All he knew was that if he got anywhere  _near_ him he was going to freak out. He didn't even want to  _think_ about what he might want to do to him, to  _either_ of them.

 _I'll protect you Scott. No matter what._ And he would.

So when he got near the cage, those blue eyes sparkling  _just like Scott's_ he couldn't control the blast of energy that threw him into the wall, knocking him out cold. Or so he thought.

Blood poured down...

down...

down until it seemed like a small river connected from the cage to Mr. Washer's head.

Harry's hands reached up to cover his mouth, disbelieving of what he might have just done.

"Scott! Oh my  _God_ I think-"

"It doesn't matter. He's gone, we don't have to worry, we're  _done_ -"

And when Harry gripped Scott into a tight hug all thoughts of his previous activities were blocked away, hopefully never to be remembered again.

* * *

"Honey? I-I don't mean to  _rush_ or anything, you take as  _long_ as you need, but it's getting pretty late and you have work in the morning…" At the sound of Scott's mother's warm voice Harry visibly brightened.

They had been stuck down here for nearly  _two hours_. The smell of blood had become completely overwhelming.

As she stepped down the stairs her smile dimmed and a scream forced its way past her lips.

"Oh my  _God_!" She ran over to Mr. Washer's prone body, tears streaming down her pale cheeks.

A mantra of  _Oh my God, Jesus Christ, Oh my God, Jesus Christ, OhmyGodJesusChrist_ was repeated over and  _over_ under her breath while she pressed two delicate fingers against her husband's throat. All was silent for a few moments and Harry covered his eyes and bit his lip while he waited for the verdict. The harsh gasp that escaped her told him everything he needed to know and the harsh  _sob_ that escaped him couldn't have been stopped even if he had the ability to  _think_ at the moment.

She slowly stood back up, blood coating her hands and making her steps end with a slight  _Scrrrrchh_ sound. It was sickening. She finally stopped in front of the cell, eyes big and brown and  _wet._

"W-what happened baby? What happened to Daddy?" Harry continued to cover his eyes, curled up into a ball on the floor, harsh sobs escaping his mouth.

"H-he did h-his usual, and Harry got scared and-and he threw him at the w-wall and he never got up." Scott's voice was thick and he swallowed after his speech, shock running through him. His dad was... _dead._ And to be honest, he really wasn't that sad about it. He refused to confront the utter  _relief_ he felt though. It was too much. His mum's gaze traveled over to Harry, anger lighting up the usual soft brown.

"Y-you  _killed my husband._ Nonononono this can't- _You killed him!"_ She ran her hands through her hair shakily and gripped it, pulling out a few chunks while she breathed heavily. Then she started laughing.

"Oh what am I going to  _do?_ Charles is gone...and if  _they_ find out what happened- oh well I'll go to jail won't I? For knowing? Well that just won't  _do_ will it. I have to protect him. Can't let word get out oh  _no._ Charles wouldn't want that no he w _ould_ n't. Yes, I'll do what he'd want. All for Charlie, all for Charles…" Her wild eyes turned on them, biting her lip so hard it bled. And Scott knew. He knew what she'd try to do.

"Don't you try comin' in here mum! Harry will get you j-... _just like he got dad!"_ Scott screamed, knuckles white and tight by his sides. And she stopped, the feral look never leaving her face, while a grin graced it as well.

" _Fine._ I'll just  _leave_ you in there." And her hands went back to her hair and teeth once again gnawing at her lips while she lifted up her husband's body, all the while mumbling-  _All for Charles...All for Charles...AllforCharles…._

* * *

It had been over six days. Not that they knew of course. It could have been longer-or shorter. Who knew anymore? They sure didn't. Scott's mum hadn't been back since then, but during the first night they heard sounds.

Of the chainsaw. And  _sobbing_.

_Harsh sobs and thuds every couple hours._

After that night they hadn't heard anything.

The first couple days had been the worst. The constant  _ache_ in their bellies and the dryness of their mouths. Now though...now it was like they were half-asleep all the time. Like they were never fully awake. Harry tried to stay up...but it was  _hard._ And when they were asleep it didn't hurt as bad...

It had been worse for Scott.

He had drained faster than Harry. Scott said it was just because Harry was smaller, but he knew better. His  _freaky abilities_  had come to save the day! Harry couldn't help but wonder - _why couldn't they open up the door_?

"H-Harry? You 'right?" Scott's voice was throaty, but soft. Not even above a whisper. It sounded much too loud to Harry.

"Yeah. 'M good. You?" Harry dared to move over a bit and hated himself afterward for it. He had been trying to save his energy, but wanting to look someone in the face while he talked to them was an old habit. And he also wanted-  _needed_ to see Scott. His friend.

"N-not s'good. I-I feel real cold Harry." Scott's cheeks were sunken in, his eyes slightly yellow. Harry  _knew_ this wasn't good, but he didn't know what to do. What  _could_ he do?

"H-Harry. I-I don' think I'm gonna make it." At that Harry gasped, the...the idea of  _that_ never crossing his mind. Th-They were  _kids._ That couldn't happen to kids, could it?

"Ha, real funny Scott. Kids can't... _die._ It don't happen." Harry's words were slightly slurred, but his mind was clear. And it was freaking out. Scott shook his head, and from the wince on his face he knew how much that simple movement must have taken out of him.

"Har, you don't  _understand._ I-'M  _dyin'."_ And the tears Scott released made everything so much more  _real_ to Harry. This was real life. He wasn't in one of his fairy tales. They weren't damsels in distress and no shining knight was coming for them. This was... _it._

"Nonono Scott you'll be  _fine._ We're both gonna be a-okay. We're gonna get out of 'ere and we'll run away together, just you and me-"

" _Harry._ " And his rambling quit, eyes no longer bright with fantasies. The strict tone abruptly faded from Scott's voice and it  _cracked_ and Harry didn't know how it was possible to feel this  _bad._

"'M  _scared._ I-I don'  _wanna_ die Har." His sobs continued, but light soon started shining through the window and Harry saw that Scott hadn't even been able to form tears. Harry's face hardened and he scooted over, but was only able to get near enough to grip Scott in a half-hug, not strong enough to get any closer.

"Shhh. It's okay Scott. You're not gonna die. See, we're gonna get far,  _far_ away from here and we're gonna run  _all_ the way to the countryside, you hear? And we're gonna plant a great big Willow tree and sit under it  _every night_ and watch the stars. And every morning we'll play games together-and we won't be bullied and hurt  _anymore._ It'll just be you and me, Scott and Harry forever and ever."

Harry tightened his grip even though it hurt to even  _breathe_ but he did it for Scott. His knight in shining armor. His  _best friend_ in the whole wide world _._

"Y-you really think so Har? Forever and ever?"

He planted a kiss of Scott's head and whispered, "Yup. Forever and-"

And Scott stopped breathing.

* * *

It was just two days later that the police finally investigated on the disappearance of Harry Potter and Scott Washer. Both families had called the boys in sick, but after an entire week off school for both of them their school became suspicious.

First they visited the Dursley's when their son Dudley mentioned that he hadn't "seen the ugly freak in over a week". They had found no trace of him.

When asked where his room was the Dursley's pointed to the second bedroom, which didn't even have a  _bed_ within it. Just mounds of broken toys. Both had been brought in for suspicion of child abuse. But that hadn't even been the beginning.

Since the school had reported Scott and Harry as being close friends for years, they thought that maybe the Washer boy would have thoughts on where young Harry may have run off to. When they found the home completely empty they became increasingly suspicious- and worried. They searched the whole home and eventually came to the basement, and what they found haunted the minds of many of the officers who laid their eyes upon it.

In the middle of the dark, cool room lay a small cage. And within it were two small boys. Around the cage lay puddles of fecal matter and urine. And in the corner were clear signs of dry blood.

The officers automatically went to release both boys, but what they saw up close was even more disturbing than what they found at first glance. The larger boy was obviously dead, blue eyes clear, chest unnaturally still. Part of his arm was missing, and when they saw the blood on the other boy's face they knew why.

No one spoke as haunted green eyes pierced through each of them, gaze utterly empty.

* * *

Harry didn't remember much of what happened. There were... _flashes_  and the doctors said he had just forgotten to protect himself. If what he saw in the flashes weren't even the  _worst_ of it...well, Harry never wanted to remember.

He distinctly remembered a  _Crunch!_ and  _Splat!_ but no visions accompanied the image. And he remembered Scott. He remembered him... _dying._ And he remembered what happened after.

He didn't tell the doctors he remembered  _that_ though. To be honest, he wished he had forgotten that too. He had been immediately sent to the hospital after being  _rescued_ , but after a few weeks the questions were bound to come, and now they had.

"How long were you in there?"

"Who trapped you?"

"How did Mr. Washer die?"

"Were you abused by the Dursley's?"

He didn't answer though, and when the nurses and doctors saw him being pestered they were waved away, like annoying birds pecking around you when you were just planning on having a nice sit down in the park.

_Stupid birds…_

Right now Harry was sitting in the hallway of the police station. They  _had_ to get the full story some time, and since he was the  _only_ witness...well, he didn't have any doctors or nurses to protect him now.

Harry knew they weren't going to have much luck though. He hadn't talked in almost a month, and he wasn't going to start blabbing now, even in they stuffed him in a room with colors of bright green and pink with a huge, smiling sun right in the middle. Nope. No words coming from  _this_ mouth. Or so he thought.

"Hey kid, what's got you lookn' all sorry and blue?"

They had put him back in the hallway again after he had vomited in the little kid's room. He had seen blue.  _That blue._ He didn't answer the man, but he did look at him. He was tall and thin, almost skeletal. But his face was warm and kind, with a shock of  _bright white_ hair framing it. His skin was a regular caucasian color, but the whiteness of his hair made him look tan. And his eyes...the darkest grey he had ever seen.

He looked crazy in his cream-colored suit and fedora, but Harry couldn't help but think the look... _suited_ him in a way.

"What, too good to answer a random man's questions? Youngins these days are just gettn' ruder and  _ruder."_ Harry glanced back up at the man, honestly amused for the first time sense the... _incidents._ Harry felt like it was a betrayal.

"I'm not the rude one." And he walked away.

* * *

"Hey, come on kid. You can't just keep on avoiding me. Like ya do with all your problems."

It had been almost three months since the incident. He had been put into your standard orphanage after the police realized he would never talk about what happened. And his therapists weren't getting into his head either. He wouldn't allow it.

"Quit bothering me. Never knew a perv to be so  _determined._ " Harry hadn't talked to anyone else besides this man. He honestly didn't know why he even gave him the time of day. But he did, and that's all that mattered.

"Well, you  _see..._ I'm not actually a pervert. Who woulda guessed it?" Harry looked at the man and noticed that his outfit had never changed from the white suit and equally white fedora since they had first met. And he walked away.

* * *

"You know, I don't even know your name." Harry still lived at the orphanage and the man had still come to visit him every day. Their conversations were never long, and always superficial, but somehow they made Harry feel... _better._ And Harry decided he liked this man.

"Eh, what's to a name anyway? Just like masks they come and go, easily changed and meaningless. My name doesn't define me. Does yours?" Harry glanced down at himself, plain brown slacks and white shirt, skinny arms and knobbly knees.

He knew who Harry Potter was. And it wasn't this boy.

This boy with the clothes that actually fit him and skin free of bruises. Heart empty of hope. Mind free of fear and happiness. No, he wasn't Harry Potter anymore. He hadn't been Harry since Scott died in his arms.

But he knew this man in white was wrong. Names  _did_ define you. Names were  _who you were._ Who he was just happened to die within that cage. Now though... _who was he?_ The man gripped his arm, a sharp grin on his tan face.

"If you  _must_ know the name's Gliese. Gliese White. What's  _yours_ kid?" The man in white was right in one way though. Masks and names were similar. And this  _new_ him... The one that was Harry but  _not_ , well...he could have as many as he wanted. And he knew  _exactly_ where he wanted to start.

"I'm Scott. Scott Washer."

* * *

It had been an accident. The flame was just so  _pretty_ and  _bright_  that he had lost control.

If the butterfly had just  _stayed over there…_  Well, it was too late now. The sucker was turning to ash, the flame eating away at it's beautiful wings while he frantically moved them back and forth, either desperately trying to put the flame  _out,_ or unaware of what was happening and just reacting on instinct.

Either way he was going to fail.

And either way, Harry was getting the high of his life watching it suffer.

* * *

"What are you doing Scott?" Harry was playing his favorite game.

Ever since that day with the fire Harry had been entranced. This... _ache_ in his gut would form and he knew it was time. Time to play. So far squirrels had been the most fun, but they were  _impossible_ to catch, so he had sufficed with cats. At least they were easy to skin.

If he made the first cut  _just right..._ it was just  _perfect._ He could just pull  _all_ the skin off in one pull and sometimes they cats even lived for the whole removal. It had only happened once though. Harry was determined to make it happen a second.

"I  _repeat._ What on God's green Earth are you up to boy?" Harry glanced down at his hands, the  _red red red_ speaking to him on a level nothing ever had before. This... _power._ This power made the nightmares stop. The fear and hate. And it was  _intoxicating._

"I'm playing. What does it look like I'm doing?" Gliese sighed and gripped Harry's hands, the hold on his knife being changed subtly.

"You can't cut them up like  _that._ I swear boy _,_ if your gonna do something at least do it  _right._ " And the grin Harry's face grew into was nothing short of animalistic.

* * *

The day Harry woke up without him was just like any other.

It had been three years. Three  _long_ years full of magic and games most would view as... _wrong._ Harry didn't really care though. He liked to kills things. And he liked Gliese.

That was about it.

After Gliese had done a ritual to make Harry his  _real son_...his like may have just turned to love. And Harry had a feeling that's why he left.

There was no note, and none of his stuff had been brought with him. But Harry knew.

He knew he was gone and there was no coming back.

The screams and cries that ripped through him like a million tiny white hot daggers came later. Now...he was calm. And cold.

He left their small apartment, bringing nothing but his wand with him. And with a scream he lit the place on fire.

And he  _laughed._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS: Child abuse, pedophilia, forced sexual relations between children, manipulation from an adult (somehow I find this really creepy and in need of a warning), psychotic musings from a child's perspective, killing of animals, cannibalism, main character FOR THIS CHAPTER death, starvation/dehydration of children, etc. Think I got everything. I think even if I didn't you got the point. :D
> 
> ...Yup. That's PART of Harry's past. Of course, this ends when he's about 11 by the end of this. ...What happens between 11 and 16? :D Btw: sorry that I don't have many scenes with Gliese. He's actually going to be IN the story, so we'll have flashbacks. Also, this explains why Harry doesn't look like Harry. Don't know if you caught that, but they did a blood adoption ritual. I started out canon, and I don't like making Harry extremely attractive without reason. So there's my reason. :D His "dad" is hot. If you have any questions about how I did this, don't be afraid to ask. I LIVE to fix plot holes. Anyway, I sincerely hope you enjoyed this. The next chapter shouldn't be quite as long...but key things will continue to happen for the rest of the story, so they'll take a lot more time and effort. So, updates will be slow, but know that I'm working on them all the time!
> 
> Btw: did anyone catch Harry's way of remembering Scott in real time? Remember me describing Harry's house. Of course, you have no idea if him doing that was voluntary or not.


End file.
